WHOMP! That was the sound the soccer ball made hitting my daughter’s face on a cold October morning. First there was a look of surprise, then a flood of tears. Just like that, my kid was absolutely done with soccer. She was five years old but there was no way we were getting her out on the field again. Ever. Luckily, she wasn’t really injured. In fact, we were lucky throughout her childhood that sports injuries weren’t anything we had to deal with – mainly because my daughter is not exactly an athlete. (By the way, she gave me permission to say that.)
We live in a pretty athletic school district so she tried to like sports, but she really wasn’t a fan. She tried softball. While she loved to hit, she took to picking dandelions out in the field. She tried out for volleyball, but only scored high on positive attitude. Everyone was joining track and she really wanted the shirt so she joined. Then promptly claimed she was going to be sick so she could stop running during the first meet. She is a demon on ice skates though – even as her father yells at her to protect her head if she falls.
Instead, she dove into other interests – the performing arts. I have to say, watching other parents sitting out at a soccer field in the rain while I made my way into a temperature-controlled auditorium; I was totally fine with her pursuits. Plus, it’s pretty hard to hurt yourself in a musical. (Well, there was one time a sandbag fell from the ceiling, but I digress.) Like I said, we were lucky. She escaped childhood with nary a broken bone, stitch or concussion.