About halfway through practice, Aiden needed a potty break, and when he got back to the (indoor) field, he was dismayed to find out they were in the middle of another exercise. He was a little put out that they hadnít waited for him, I guess. He loudly announced that he was done with soccer, and to make his point he stood in the middle of the field with his arms folded. ďI hate soccer,Ē he said. ďIt stinks.Ē
He was given several opportunities to change his mind. He was then given the choice of going back on the field or going home. He wanted to stay and watch, he said. That wasnít one of the options, so practice was cut a little short today. Some days are like that, especially when youíre three and a half. A kid can only perform on cue for so long before he reaches a breaking point.
Heís done well at other practices, even when he wasnít feeling well, so this was just a minor glitch in a pretty broad spectrum of upbeat experiences. Itís just too bad it was the first time I had a chance to watch him play soccer (and the last practice of the year).
Iíve seen enough soccer games to know that the players can be kind of temperamental. Iíve watched them throw themselves on the ground and writhe around for no apparent reason. Sometimes they will gesticulate wildly and whine at the referee, then stomp around kicking the air. And these are professionals! Aiden isnít even four yet, and his meltdown today wasnít nearly as dramatic. Way funnier, though (although he wouldnít want me to tell you that).