Now with my boy, I am piiiiccckkkyyy. From his spiky haired head to his always funky little toes, I have opinions. He's just a quirky guy. His friends are usually decked out in some sort of Under Armour or "slippery" sports material. He likes that stuff, but he generally goes for the funny tshirt. Talking food complaining about their difficulties in life, ironic hunor like bacon and pigs or chickens and fried eggs in conversation. You know, that's funny. So he has his talking food shirt, a pair of camo shorts and a pair of Hulk Van's and he walks on to the kickball court. Sounds like a joke, right? Although it kind of isn't. Since he doesn't live in one of the large feeder neighborhoods for our school, he doesn't hang out with lots of these boys in the neighborhood. He's a different kind of kid. He has two big sisters, so he doesn't think girls are all that yucky. He doesn't play football or baseball like the majority of his friends. He's a soccer boy all the way. So when he tries to break in to the standing game every day on the playground he is met with a "No" or "Not today" comment from the others. His best buddy from last year will not include him this year and made a point of giving out birthday invitations to boys in his class...just not to him. My boy said the one time they let him play kickball, he kicked the ball too far, he got around the bases and they told him he was done. The kid plays soccer...he has a heck of a foot. As a mom, I understand that there is a hierarchy to kickball...to all playground sports. There is a boss who usually tells everyone else what to do. Maybe two bosses, who are also the heads of the two teams. They choose who they want and the rest can go find another activity. I can't fight his battles for him. I can equip him with the skills to deal with whatever comes his way. But as a mom whose heart breaks when I see that little face with those glasses and that super smile and hear the disappontment in his voice. I want to go yell, "Let my baby play some blasted kickball!!!" or "You are just intimidated by his excellent foot!!". Yeah. That would go over like, well, it would be bad.
Sorry. I'm tired and my words went off the rails. I just wish everybody could participate and the playground rules would change. They haven't changed in the umpteen years since I was 7, so time to get used to disappointment. He'll learn to find something else to do out there...or he'll take his "Track Meat" tshirt with running bacon, ham and sausage and demand a place on a kickball team. EIther way, I'll anxiouly be waiting in the pick up line, ready to hear his blow by blow of playground antics.
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