"Ball" was Dude's first word. It's his favorite thing to play with (whip at people and animals). We have balls coming out of every crevice of our home. And so we've decided to introduce dude to playing with balls in an organized fashion. First stop, Little Kickers Soccer at our local park. Our (I say "our" because it was a family effort) first game was Saturday. I've been searching for the most appropriate and descriptive words to give you an idea of what that one hour period of time was like, but haven't quite come up with what my brain truly wants to say. And so I'll give it my best.
We arrived at the field, XS shin guards and super super high black socks in place, new shiny red #3 soccer ball from Pappa in hand, ready to play. It was a beautiful Saturday morning and spirits were high.
Step #1. Watch the other children playing so dude could somewhat grasp what he was about to venture into. Not interested. He just wanted to kick the ball into the field where the game was taking place, so we moved as far away from the field as possible.
Step #2. Meet Coach Nate and get our new jersey on. Not interested. He was cool with the shirt he had on and wanted nothing to do with a wardrobe change, so we bribed him with future M&Ms to get the stupid thing over his head.
Step #3. Time to start the half hour practice (aka, stand with your team of 6 other Little Kickers and listen to your coach). Not so much interested. He did join the opposing team, kick their ball and run around in circles. That's something right? Tim stepped in at that point and corralled him like he would a flock of sheep. It worked for the most part, so Dad became a 3rd coach at that point.
It went uphill and started to get cute at that point. For a while. The kiddos stretched, ran around the field in a line, kicked the ball back and forth (dude got stuck with a 4.5 year old soccer genius who kept complaining the dude was kicking the ball the wrong way and making him run every time). Sorry kid. The ball and his foot were making contact and that was worth celebrating. Granted, the orange cones did find their way to dude's head, but that was to be expected.
My fellow soccer mom, Maria
Step #4. Game time. Dude sat on the side lines, waiting for his turn to hit the field. When it came time, he approached me, informed me that he wanted a butter jelly sandwich and milk and refused to play until he got it. He found his way to Nanna's lap, sat down, gave her a kiss and asked her for the same snack. We didn't bring food with. Why? We're stupid. We know our child and we knew that he would want a snack. And so Tim ran home and made a butter jelly sandwich.
Dude feasted on it and then ran around the field like a little bouncy ball. I had to be out there with him, but he did go. And he did get quite p-o'd that he couldn't kick the ball. Why couldn't he kick the ball? Because the rock star 4.5 year olds dominated the field and made all the 3 year old cry. Every single one. Some cried multiple times. Some cried the entire time and others just once to let out their pure exhaustion.
Step #5. Half time. For dude, half time was done time. He plopped down in our bike stroller, announcing that it was "Time to go home now! I ALL done with soccer game. No more soccer for Wylan." He sat there, staring forward, refusing to speak or look at any of us. But, since we only had 2 team members willing to play at that point, I eventually convinced him (through bribery of a snack) to come back out to the field. He did, much to his dismay, and he ended the morning like a champion, running through the parent tunnel with pride. And then he got a snack and we went home.
God bless us, we'll do this all again next Saturday. And the Saturday after that and after that and after that. The uplifting news is that the little man is exhibiting some athletic ability. Let's hope he warms up to this soccer stuff. And if he doesn't, the whole thing is pretty darn cute and all us parents sure do get good laughs out of it. That's all we really expected from a bunch of 3 year olds trying to play organized soccer anyway.
I know. No words for the cuteness factor of this little poser. We took in the sunshine today folks. For 4 hours. We walked with Riles and Maria, looked for bugs with our magnifying glass, climbed trees, frolicked at the park with our new friend Holden, walked to the grocery store for a ride on the penny-eating horse, ate doughnuts at Starbucks, visited new neighborhood friends and proceeded to take a solid 3 hour nap. I'm pretty sure he didn't move an inch during those 3 hours. Gotta love sunny, warm, energy sapping spring days. 
Our pastor's wife, Sandy, taking in the scenery downtown Fort Collins.
One of dude's highlights was hangin' with the big blue bear outside the convention center. 
The Tims stood in as substitute coaches this week. Excellent job boys. Excellent job.
Having my parents here for Easter made the day that much sweeter. We started the morning with an awesome church service. It's not often that I get lost in the moment during singing, but that morning I did. Dude was in my arms, my parents and hubbie to my right, the sun was shining and we were singing about the most amazing and coolest thing ever done for man kind. I won't bother going into the hysteria that was the dude during the children's sermon on the front steps and I'll just leave you with this blissful picture of the morning.
The very first time Duder let me put him in a painting smock AND the very first time he allowed his dainty little hands to be dirtied by the paint. Notice the smile! We're getting places.
I'll briefly mention the fact that it's my dad's birthday tomorrow and won't mention which one it is (60) as he's not thrilled about the reality of it. So, we'll go out for lunch and us adults will head out for a fancy French dinner tomorrow night. I'll update this with some footage of the "soccer" game tomorrow. For now, enjoy some shots of our Nanna and Pappa time thus far.
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