The Man Who Lives In My House had a dream in which the smaller hooligan was a newborn and he was a baby gorilla instead of a human.
|So cute! I sort of want one!|
"He was furry and everything!" said the Man, handing me a cup of coffee, "And we really liked him. We named him and we were carrying him around, but I was already worried about what he would be like as a teenager."
I guess this is not too wierd, given that the Larger Hooligan has just entered middle school. We are wrestling with mighty piles of spanish and pre-algebra homework. He is noticing that he is learning stuff that I do not know. This is going straight to his (big) head, let me tell you.
Also Football practice--don't ask. I hate football. But the larger Hooligan is, well, large. And very strong, but not super fast. Soccer was not his metier. He got called for fouls frequently because if he even bumped into someone a little bit, they appeared to have been bulldozed. He felt really bad about this--it is never fun to have to curb your enthusiasm.
Various dads have been taking me aside for years: "Kate, He really should play football."
"Bleah!" I would reply, sticking my fingers in my ears, "No! Stop recruiting my son!"
Anyway, I caved. There are pros and cons. On the pro side, The larger Hooligan is feeling the glow of success. He is encouraged to go full boar (bore?) and not hold back. You do not have to tell him twice. Also there are no weekend games--four nights a week of practices/games, but weekends are free! And all the games are local. In soccer as they get more advanced, the games and tournaments happen all over the state. What you spend on gas, food and hotel rooms is unbelievable, not to mention that your weekends are not longer your own.
The cons are, well, it is football. I don't understand the rules. I fret about injury, although our pediatrician friend (whose son also plays) assures us that the injury rate is about the same as soccer, at this level. It is incredibly tedious. Many of my fellow parents appear to be living vicariously through their sons' success/failure, which can be hard to witness.
I am just showing up as expected, helping with the carpooling, providing snacks and keeping him hydrated. Besides this I am very uninvolved. As long as no one gets hurt I do not care if they win or lose, I do not care if he plays or is on the bench. This is surprisingly freeing! I guess it falls into the pro category, now that I think about it.
So our young silverback has a venue in which to roar and beat his chest. If this means he will act reasonably civilized at home I will not complain.