The brutal pit of rugby-playing weasels

Originally uploaded by m.a.x.

Moomin stalked off the soccer field crying this afternoon, extremely pissed off. I watched him for about 10 minutes kicking the miniature nerf soccer balls around some orange cones, uninspired but not unhappy-looking, in the crisp perfect fall sunlight. It’s a free class, one hour, two days after school, very low-key. You’d think I had signed him up for alligator wrestling, or lacrosse, or intermediate skinhead moshpit lessons, or the Peking Opera.

“Mom! I told you, I hate sports! I hate running around! And I hate healthy exercise!”

What to say? I also hate running around and healthy sports. I prefer unhealthy sports. It’s so unfair. But the point is, it’s free, you’re a little kid, and you don’t have gym class at your school. I listened to his feelings, but then explained that this was a better option than signing up for real soccer practice several times a week, buying uniforms and shin guards, driving to real soccer games on Saturday, and competing with kids and yelling parents who actually care about the game. So compared to that scenario it’s a piece of cake.

Of course, compared to lying in bed reading comic books, which is what he’d normally be doing on a Monday afternoon, it sucks.

He’s just going to have to tough it out for the next couple of months!

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