Soccer Mum

It's official. I am a soccer mum. I not only have the seven-seater car to prove it, but today Master Five donned the numbered shirt and long socks (that reached his thighs) and played his little heart out for 30 minutes on the field.

It's strange how proud I felt watching four little kids run after a ball. The excitement over one of them actually kicking the ball seemed almost comical. Us adults cheered and we shouted from the sidelines and they ran up and down, forwards and back until we were all red in the face. It really was such a fun half hour.

I think I'm going to like being Soccer Mum. (Ask me what I think of it mid-winter).

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