Jack and Jill stepped on the field to play a game of soccer.
Jack did fall.
Jill stole the ball.
There's just no way to stop her.
I'm breaking two of my own loosely held blogging rules today. 1) No pictures of my kids and 2) no facebragging.
My son took this picture of my daughter and me at the conclusion of a game that qualified her team for the national tournament. (Please notice and be impressed that I am holding The Husband's I Pod and that in the excitement I caused no damage to it.) Ultimately (and two losses later), her team placed fourth for the state of Texas. I don't think I could be prouder of her than at the moment pictured here. And not because they won, but because they left everything they had on that field and that is hard to do.
So now? We're going to Disney World. No shit. The national championships are held at Disney.
Okay - facebrag off. On a less personal note. I came away from this tournament (our first that included travel) with a greater appreciation for the coaches in my children's lives. I saw a lot of bad coaching behavior. Unfortunately, the worst I saw was from a Stepford Husband, known to me, who has a son the same age as my daughter. My heart broke for the boys on his squad whose parents apparently do not have the sense God gave a goat. If they did, their boys wouldn't be allowed play for a man (and I use that term loosely) who degrades his players like he does. My son said, "Mom, you've GOT to get a video camera. I could get like a million hits on YouTube by filming that jerk." Sadly, he's right.