Today, The Firstborn wanted to play soccer. Nothing would deter him. I tried to convince him that it was too cold outside. By the time I had formulated my argument against sporting activities in adverse weather conditions, he emerged from his room with his soccer uniform in place…well…approximately.
His shin guards were on his arms and his shoes were on the wrong feet. Ahh…close enough. I corrected the wardrobe malfunction and outside we went, followed by the Subsequent Child close behind.
The cul-de-sac soccer game lasted about two minutes, during which time he named his “soccer team” – Kings of the Cool-de-Swack.
Then the boys spotted something that would derail the game in progress.
A puddle. Actually…it wasn’t even really a puddle…more like a small area of standing water…kind of like a moist depression in the asphalt…hardly an official puddle.
I often forget the power of a child’s imagination. That “puddle” was Lake Superior to the boys.
Even though the Kings of the Cool-de-Swack never completed that first soccer game, I was able to teach the boys about the toe-numbing effects of a cold, windy March morning and water.
Sometimes it’s ok if you don’t finish the game.