Henry Plays Soccer

... like a blind, deaf mute.

Let me rewind.

Back in February, I thought it would be a good idea to sign Henry up for an activity to get him out of the house, but more importantly, to wear him out. So I signed him up for British Soccer. I really have no idea what British soccer is. Still don't. Is it different than American soccer? Shouldn't it be called fussball or something? The description just mentioned drills and games to help with soccer skills. Cool.

Imagine my surprise when I show up and there are two uniformed soccer coaches ready to get the kids moving. And I couldn't understand them because they are, legit, British. In fact, I missed them call Henry's name because I didn't know who "En-Er-EE" was. Three syllables, just so we are clear on pronunciation here.

I knew I was in trouble when Coach Nick asked all the parents to stay with their player. 'Why?' I thought. Oh, because trying to keep 2 year olds together is like trying to herd cats. So along with trying to keep En-Er-EE on The Pitch, I needed to get him to play the red light green light game while dribbling a soccer ball.

Did I mention I am carrying a 22 pound baby on my hip? His name is Palmer and he is a moose.

While I have no doubts as to Coach Nick's soccer playing abilities, his ability to herd 2 year olds is lacking. Kids and soccer balls were everywhere. There was no red light. Only green light with this game. Occasionally, Coach Nick would try to corral everyone and regroup to no avail. En-Er-EE was definitely part of the problem, completely deaf to me yelling at him to sitdown/staystill/putyourfootontheball/stopstealingsoccerballs.

Halfway through the class he was either sleepy or just tired of hearing me shouting instructions at him because he curled up into the fetal position and refused to move or talk. I realized I was starting to sound like one of those moms on "Toddlers and Tiaras," so I made up an excuse and got the hell out of there.

I'm not saying En-Er-EE's never going to be good at soccer; I am saying that right now he is a normal 2 year old and the cost-benefit analysis is out of whack. Why the hell would he stand still with a soccer ball when he can throw it across The Pitch? Which is why I'm putting M&Ms in my pocket next week.

Here's hoping!

Henry "Attack" Johnson*

*No, that's not our last name. Creeper.