Last night I found myself doing something I swore I wouldn't do - an increasingly frequent phenomenon the more parenting notches I get in my belt. Last night was Danny's first soccer practice, for his first official sports team experience. And yes, he's only three. I swore to myself that we wouldn't commit ourselves to weekend games and the like until Danny was old enough to truly understand what he was signing up for. But for those of you who have met Danny, you know that he really likes sports. The look on his face in the above photo says it all.
So we set off last night to meet the coach and embark upon his first practice. The experience was made all the sweeter by the fact that Danny's buddy Parker is on the team. Despite having seen each other only hours earlier, they had a joyful reunion on the field and stayed close to each other during each drill.
I'm happy to say that so far, Danny is an enthusiastic player who (usually) follows instruction and is eager to play. The games will no doubt be interesting, and it's too early to say that he won't wind up picking dandelions on the sidelines. But for now, as far as Danny is concerned, he's the next Beckham.
By the way, Tim suggested I title this post "My Left Foot," because Danny continues to baffle us by kicking with his left foot. He has exhibited no other left-handed tendencies, so who knows? Phil Mickelson is a righty who golfs left-handed. And Danny's own mother turns her deft (if I do say so myself) cartwheels left-handed, so perhaps this is just one more addition to the pantheon of leftish athletes.
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