I decided to go for it anyway. To register, you need a copy of their birth certificate. I searched everywhere, but could only find the commemorative birth certificate they give you at the hospital. Finn is only 4 and I'm already falling behind on the paperwork. All this organized activity is making my head spin. I walked onto the soccer field with a copy of Finn's fake birth certificate, and I felt like I was 5 years old again--like they were going to say "no, go home". Of course when I got there, they barely glanced at the certificate and were pretty nice folks. So, AYSO, here we come!
In the meanwhile, I have been trying to teach the boys soccer in our backyard. Omigoodness. Now I know why they have a 4-year-old age limit. Our sessions go something like this:
- Finn dribbles the ball and starts heading toward the goal.
- I say "Calvin, it's your turn, get the ball!"
- Calvin grabs the ball with his hands and cries hysterically if Finn comes near him.
- Coach Davi shouts to Calvin to kick the ball.
- Calvin kicks the ball and Finn goes for it.
- Calvin cries hysterically, "Finn is grabbing the ball...Waaaaaaa" and so on.
Our neighbors probably think we are a train wreck. I finally realized that Calvin was too young to grasp the concept of competetive sports, and I came up with a solution.
2 balls, duh:)
gotta love our fancy pvc-pipe goal, compliments of John
Can you see it now? Finn's soccer pose?
(minus rainboots and volleyball)
If you want to come over and play with us, it's BYOB(bring your own ball, of course).