Two Soccer Stories

Story #1:
Matthew loves to play soccer, pretty much all day, every day.  We often play in our front yard, where our driveway and that of the neighbor act as goals.  There are a few rules:

1.  We must not be on the same team.
2. We must each choose a team color.  (Although once I was the "Blue Team" and Matthew was the "Blue Blue Blue Team."  Which was super confusing.)
3. The players are to be described by their team color and "guy." 
4. I must play and simultaneously act as announcer, describing each play and referring to the team by the correct color.  ("And a Blue guy kicks it, but a Blue Blue Blue guy blocks it!  And now the Blue Blue Blue guy is dribbling down the field.  Oh no!  The Blue Blue Blue guy is out of bounds!  So the Blue guy gets a throw in!")

So, the other day Matthew and I were playing in the front yard.  I was on the Red Team and Matthew was on the Black Team.  And just as a neighbor walked by, Matthew scored and I shouted, "And the Black guy gets a goal!"  Which makes perfect sense if you know our rules, but just . . . sort of . . . sounds wrong when you are walking by.

Story #2:
Today I took Matthew to the art museum, where he spent the entire time telling me how much more fun it would be to play soccer.  So, when we left, we got the ball from the car (we never leave home without it!) and kicked it around a nearby park.  Finally, Matthew was worn out.  "Carry me, mama, I'm so tired!" he whined.  I declined to lug him back to the car and he dramatically dragged along the path.  He picked up two huge leaves.  "They're brothers," he explained to me.  Then in a high little voice, he said, "Hi!" as he wiggled one leaf.  "Hi!" replied the other leaf.  "What do you want to do?" asked the first leaf.  "Let's play soccer!" And Matthew and the brother leaves were off running, kicking the ball towards the car.

Not Sure How to Take This

I wear makeup -- just a little powder and blush 'cause I'm pasty -- most days.  This morning, as I was getting ready, Matthew said, "What are you doing?"

"I'm putting on my makeup," I replied.

"What's makeup?" he asked.

"It's . . . well, it's like colored powder that some women put on their faces."  Which makes it sound sort of ridiculous, doesn't it?

"Why?"

"Well . . . I guess because they think it makes them look pretty."  Ridiculous and faintly pathetic. Nothing like a three-year-old to give you a complex.

I put on a little powder.

"Uh oh," said Matthew.  "It didn't work."

I picked up my blush.  Matthew announced, "Last chance!"

I gave a few quick swipes and Matthew smiled at my reflection in the mirror.  "Still pretty."

But Enough About You . . .

Overheard as Cameron and Matthew sat at the table eating foccacia together:

Matthew:  So, Cameron, how was my day?
Cameron:  You mean, how was MY day?
Matthew:  Nooooo, I mean, how was MY day?  Well, I did a pin punching work!  And I had a snack and I did tearing work and I played with Rachel and Rohan outside!

Past Tense Tricks

Cameron loves listening to audiobooks.  A few days ago, he paused his current selection and said to me, "There's no such word as 'writed,' is there?  You say 'wrote' not 'writed.'" 

"That's right," I replied.

"I knew it!" he crowed triumphantly.  "They made a mistake in this book!"

"They did?  They said 'writed' in your book?  Are you sure they weren't quoting someone speaking?"

"No," he replied.  "They said 'righted a wrong.'"

Among Other Reasons

This morning Matthew and I went to a soccer field and played a little one-on-one.  Midway through our game, some yappy little dogs came running towards us and Matthew froze.  The owner called the dogs back and I said to Matthew, "I think those doggies wanted to play soccer with us!"

"But they CAN'T, right?"  said Matthew.  "They CAN'T play soccer with us.  They don't even have shin guards."

Concentration

The other day, Matthew came into the kitchen and said, "Mommy!  I want to show you what I made!   Look!" He had stacked cardboard blocks in the living room.  "It's a tower!"

"Wow, Matthew!" I said.  "That is a very tall tower!  How did you get that block all the way on the top?"

Matthew answered, "I concentrated."

A Laughing Matter

I've been struggling with Matthew lately, who has started saying, "I can't," "I don't want to," and "It's too hard" to everything.  Go to school?  "I don't want to."  Soccer class?  "It's too hard."  Use the potty?  "I can't." 

So a few days ago, we had a Big Serious Talk about trying.  The above phrases were added to "It's not fair"  and "This is yucky" on the list of Things We Don't Say.  I told Matthew that even if something was hard, I wanted him to try because trying helps you learn. 

I wasn't sure if he got it or not until I was laying on the couch watching Survivor late one night.  Suddenly, Matthew appeared at the end of the couch.  He had padded silently down the hall and was watching an Immunity Challenge intently.  He turned to me and solemnly announced, "I don't think I can do that.  It's too hard."  Then he broke into a wide grin and laughed, "I'm just being silly, Mama!"

Appreciation

Yesterday, I made apple and butternut squash turnovers for dinner, using homemade dough and local, organic produce.  We ate on our back porch, enjoying blue skies and fresh air.  "Ahhh," I said, leaning back in my chair and sipping my wine.  "This is wonderful.  There is no place I'd rather be!" I beamed at my three boys.

David said, "Hawaii would be nice."

Cameron said, "I'd rather be in Legoland."

Matthew said, "I don't wanna eat this."

Not Matthew

The other day, Matthew came home with this in his backpack.

"Matthew!" I said.  "Did you do name tracing work today?"

He looked at me quizzically.  "No."

I held up the piece of paper with his name on it.  "Did you do this?"

"Yes."

"Wow!  Matthew, you traced your name!"

Matthew replied, "Noooo, mama.  That's not my name.  That's called scribbling."