My son and I were pumped for class this week. He conquered his fear of the parachute at last week's Parent N' Me Sports & Games, so we were ready for anything, including exploring the view from the underside of the beast—the giant parachute.
Familiar with the routine of our class by now, he bolted for the play area once we arrived at Chumash Park. After a quick pause to take in the scenery of the rest of the kids playing freely at the stations, which were already prepared, he claimed his place on the warm-up line. The fact that he was the only one waiting there and eager to begin made me smile.
A minute later, when Coach Andy called for us to begin, the rest of the parents rounded up their kids and joined us. Actually, it was the kids who rounded up the parents.
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It wasn't long until the first indication of my son's desire for some attention surfaced. He stood with this hands folded through some of the warm-ups.
When I tried to ask what why he wasn't participating, he looked at me and sternly said, "I don't want to." I tried pleading, "But you like these stretches." He clarified his stance. "No, I don't," he told me.
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Fortunately, a quick transition to the soccer portion of the class distracted him from his resistance. He did a great job demonstrating the difference between what the coach called "little kicks" and "big kicks," otherwise known as dribbling and shooting or passing.
Just as I was impressed with what I believed to be my son's natural talent to master both ball handling skills, his resistance surfaced again. He reached down, grabbed the ball with his hands, and threw it to me. "We don't use our hands in soccer, only our feet," I told him.
So much good that did.
Coach Andy announced our next activity—something he called "soccer bowling." Well, this sure threw a wrench in my plan to teach the fundamental of no-hands in soccer.
In response to the coach, my son instantly rolled the ball, bowling style, across the field to knock over the cones, shouting, "Yeah! Bowling!" All I could do was laugh at this point. At least he was having a blast, even if the intent was to knock over the cones by kicking the ball.
Next, it was parachute time. Lifting the parachute high over our heads, I took my son's hand and led him underneath to the center mesh opening where the kids gathered to look at the sunny sky. I could sense the wonderment he and the other kids were feeling, and was fortunate to be the only adult experiencing the brilliant morning sky. I grabbed the camera out of my pocket and shot a quick video to savor the moment for the two of us.
