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.