A post from The Daddy Man:
You've probably seen the post and pictures about Biscuit playing soccer, and I'd like to set the record straight.
I hate soccer. Hate is a strong word, I know, but I mean it. I've watched and covered it. I understand the game. But I hate it.
But with that said, I would never discourage Biscuit from playing.
He never even mentioned being interested in soccer until Kimmy asked him about it. Then his answer was, "Dad doesn't like soccer." She was quick to tell him that it didn't matter what I like, it matters what he likes. And I backed her up on that.
So just to show the boy that I'll support him, I've been practicing with him in the backyard. You can tell that he doesn't have much experience, but he's trying real hard, and that's all I'll ask of him.
One evening a couple of weeks ago, I told Biscuit that while he put on his soccer cleats, I would set up the little net that his Grandmama gave him. Biscuit got his shoes one and carefully tied the laces. Then he jumped up and ran out into the yard.
Biscuit started "dribbling" the ball. That's what the soccer people call it when you kick the ball back and forth as you travel down the field toward the goal.
He was making a really good drive toward the net, and I was excited to see him going for it.
But just before he got to the net, he tripped over his own feet, knocking one shoe off in the process and face planted right on the ground. He hit hard! I was a little nervous for him to turn over, not knowing if he had done any kind of damage.
Biscuit rolled over and looked stunned for just a second or two. And while he was still lying flat on the ground, he looked up at me and said, "I lost my shoe."
That was it. "I lost my shoe."
No crying. No drama. Just "I lost my shoe."
I realized that even though he got his shoes tied, he hadn't made the laces tight enough. So I helped him up and told him we would tie his shoes a little tighter so they would stay on his feet.
We played for a little while longer until it started raining, and we headed in to get Biscuit showered and ready for bed. Once I read him a bedtime story and came downstairs, I called Kimmy into our bathroom and told her what happened.
Things are often funny when they happen, but they're always funnier when we can share a laugh after the boy is in bed.