I didn’t want the girls to do it.
I can’t be a soccer mom.
It’s not that I think I’m too young, or anything like that.
I just don’t think I can do it. The yelling. The cheering. The screaming (at least what I’ve seen).
Mr. Serious thought otherwise (after taking the girls to the soccer field and her dribbling down the length). So now, #1 is signed up and ready to go.
So, now I’m supposed to be a soccer mom?
Shin guards and soccer socks? Check.
She’s already been to two practices.
Apparently, she’s pretty good with the dribbling. (Daddy does soccer practice).
During practice, the coaches gave out their boxes with game uniforms, socks and the car magnet. She brought the magnet up to me, and told me “you have to put this on your car.” I said “not right now.” She told me “but they said it goes on your car.”
Fast forward to the next morning. I’ve dropped the girls off at school and I’m walking out to the van, and I see a giant spot. At first I think a bird took a huge poop, upon further inspection, I realize, she got that magnet on the van anyways.