I am officially a Soccer Mom

It has happened...and I think I might like it. I am a Soccer Mom. I made plans to check out a Tykes soccer clinic (it sounds like they're fixin' the wounded balls) with Eli. I threw him in the car after dinner and asked him if he wanted to play soccer. He screamed. He was just that excited. He was doubly excited that there were no other children in the car coming along for the ride. The coach was running late, so when we got there we had to WAIT. He was spinning in circles and kept asking, "when can I play soccer, mommy?" Kid, just be patient. Not his, or my, forte. The coach arrived. She's in the picture to the right, with Eli. There were two other children in the class. Fantastic. The parents all struck up conversation. There are common acquaintances. Our children had such a great time. Coach was excellent. She switched up the games and activities every five to ten minutes, for an hour. The three kids were not lacking in attention and were thoroughly engaged. Eli was so happy and excited. Watching him attempt to do jumping jacks was the highlight of my time there. I couldn't help but smile the whole time. My kid was having a good time. He listened and followed instructions. He got along well with the other kids. He took turns and played well with others, and all the other tell-tale signs of being the perfect little brown-noser. Kidding aside, I liked sitting there and watching my child function independently...without me. He looked over a couple of times, to make sure I was there watching his independence. And I was...marveling in it.