Daddy and Me Soccer

Peyton, demonstrating how to trap the ball with his foot, a skill far more difficult than it looks...

...the darn ball just wants to keep rolling along!

When the fall community class list came out several months ago, Steve saw "Daddy and Me" soccer listed. He was thrilled. We had been looking for a special activity for Peyton to enjoy since he, at the time, was soon to be competing with a new sibling. The fact that it was on a Saturday and provided an opportunity for the dudes to bond was even better. The fact that it was right in the middle of our usual nap time was not ideal. Peyton has always been fairly adaptable and his later and later nap schedule was not because of his need to nap later, but more our inability to get him to bed sooner in the day. We convinced ourselves that it might actually work out in our favor.

Steve and Peyton headed out for their first class after an early nap. Getting Peyton down for an early nap was the easy part. Waking him up - he carries around the "post nap grog" for the better part of an hour most days before he truly wakes up enough to face the rest of the day - and getting him out the door proved more difficult (especially as the weeks went on). Peyton has developed a resistance to going out the door for just about everything these days. A lot of positive persuasion and patience are necessary for most outings. Despite the power struggle, both boys were in good spirits. Our hopes were high, but like all first experiences our nerves were hot, edgy. I waited anxiously and was relieved that they returned smiling. It seemed like this might be a good fit. Maybe.

Peyton didn't speak much of his experience in the week that passed - only when I brought it up.

After the second class, I quizzed Steve further. He shrugged when I asked if Peyton had a good time. It was, evidently, hard to tell. He's 3. How hard can it be to tell if he's having fun?

A couple classes into it, Steve was unable to go, so I accompanied Peyton. Playing "dumb" seemed a good motivator to get Peyton back into the positive side of the game. He bought into my story and was more than happy to tell me the proper footwear was not flip-flops, but sneakers, and that you use your feet, not hands, to kick the ball. He was captivated with "teaching" me. That is, until we actually arrived at class. He proudly showed me his moves (exhibited in above pictures) then, after a few minutes, he was ready to go home. With much persuasion, he stuck it out until the end. I was surprised at the intensity and focus with which he played. There wasn't the smiling, laughing and goofing around that I remembered and expected about the game. Peyton was very serious. He seemed to approach the game much like a construction project, with intensity. He was upset when his ball rolled away out of control, frustrated that he couldn't just pick the ball up and put it where he wanted it to go. By this class, he barely even put a finger to the ball, and actually had some ball control, but I could tell it took a lot of work for him to keep his hands away. I was shocked that he wasn't his silly little self. He seemed like he was under all this pressure. Was he trying to be perfect? (Did I create this? Dear God, I hope not. Perfectionism is a monster. I know. Please spare him.) This was supposed to be FUN.

After we practically dragged him out the door each week, he always said he wanted to go home almost immediately. One day, his coach, Coach Brett, wasn't there and the substitute coach was more change than Peyton could bare and he burst into tears. Peyton and Steve left a short time later. Even though we talked about heading to the last class as a family, we didn't get there. Peyton napped through it and we didn't have the heart to wake him just to go through the power struggle and tears that were sure to follow. He never even mentioned soccer when he woke up. Neither did we.

Each week I struggled with what the right thing to do was. This introductory class ended a couple of weeks ago and therefore it resolved itself. But, given these circumstance again how do I validate my child's feelings, yet challenge them? Is it right to give in to my child's protests and let my child quit? Do I force the issue and teach the obvious lessons? Is this really such a bad experience?

Yet somehow, despite what seemed like a less than positive first experience through our eyes, Peyton says that soccer is fun and he talks as though he believes that this is true. When asked what he liked best about it, he shared that scoring the goal and getting a sticker (which is how they ended each class) were his favorites. He even told me he would like to do it again (someday). I hope so. Soccer. Life. They're supposed to be fun. Especially when you are 3!