Apparently we only do one blog-worthy thing a week in this family so I should just rename this blog “How Did Corrigan Do At Soccer” and the answer to that would be, well… hmmm, better but worse?
Let’s try and stay positive and focus on the things that went well on week 3.
He kicked the ball a lot more this week.
Though, admittedly, bribery was involved in the form of bubbles. I know. I know. Life doesn’t reward you with bubbles every time you do something, but maybe it should. I don’t know, it worked. For ten minutes or so.
The team leader brought some bubbles after asking last week what Corrigan’s currency was. It’s pretty obvious that he doesn’t want to be there, so after two practices I suppose someone thought they should take charge and figure out how to help this kid out. I mean, we are only his parents, how are we supposed to know what to do with him? (sarcasm, obvs.)
The bubbles worked okay, I suppose. Well actually, they worked perfectly fine until another little friend took them from me, blew them all willy-nilly (we were trying the “First you do this______, then you get bubbles” thing) and then poured them on the ground. So that was that. After the bubble motivation was gone, it was nothing short of tragic for Corrigan, really.
I got the hint that parents needed to be out on the field with their kid more (FB message said “Hey parents, get out on the field with your kids more!) because the coaches can’t do it all, so for an hour I diligently corralled him, against his will mostly because lining up and waiting is apparently akin to being boiled alive for little C, and ignored the cries and throwing himself in the dirt and MADE HIM PARTICIPATE. I picked that boy up off of the ground a thousand times. I held him up under his shoulders. I made him hold my hand. I pretended that I had the patience of Job and the kind-hearted gentle spirit of Mr. Rogers, while inside of my head I was screaming too.
But by golly, we waited in that line and when that ball was passed to us, I directed him by the shoulders and asked him to kick it into the net and he did it…in the most half-hearted way possible. Pretty sure an infant could have done a better job. But he did what I asked, so we cheered and clapped and made a big giant deal about it and for our efforts he pretty much tried to kill us with his vocal chords for the next two hours.
The screaming and drama, ohhhhh the drama.
I was soaked in sweat by the time the hour was up and the car was parked really far away, or at least it seemed like it was when my kid was yelling at the top of his lungs the entire way. I have no idea if things are going to get better but whatever. We are trying. Well, mostly Daddy and I are trying. Corrigan, however, is committed to foiling our efforts and we are weak in the face of weekly public parenting embarrassment.
It is delightful. Yay Soccer! (so much for positive, eh?)
(motivation all gone)