Between feeding children, laundry, homework, guitar lessons, doctors appointments, working, living and creating the next mini-mall, we are running to lacrosse,
to soccer
to track
(PR, 16 feet 7 inches)
to soccer.
The common complaint is, “Why do we have to go to all of their stuff, and they never go to ours?”
Yes, this is true. And I’m falling way behind in the laundry, the cleaning…
“And,” they add, “when we’re bigger they’ll never come to our stuff because they’ll be gone at college.”
Yes, we admit, this is also true.
My house looks like a hurricane ran through. But that one kick that makes the breakaway goal, or the one hopeful kick that doesn’t make the goal, and the jump that gives him inches of his PR — all of it comes with a look back at the sidelines. “Did you see that?” It all happens in seconds. We don’t want to miss it.
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They’ll appreciate it later. And you know how quickly it is gone. When the kids complain, my favourite phrase is ‘if this is the worst thing that ever happens to you, you’re going to lead a blessed life.’