8:47 p.m. - April 28, 2007
And with Katie’s new schedule that meant it was soccer time this morning.
But I was solo Dad today, since Liz went up to Hammond, Indiana for a writer’s workshop. (Designerchica – “Does she have a flak jacket? Oh, wait, it’ll be daytime. She should be OK.”)
And I’ve been fighting the epizootic that Liz has bequeathed to me. The last couple of days I’ve been coughing and hacking, not helped in the least by covering a softball game on Thursday in the rain and wind. (I was in a press box, but still the wind blew in on me and I was SO bright and wore a t-shirt and shorts.)
However, it was my Dad-ly duty to carry on, and get Katie to soccer and root her on to goals and what not. Since the rest of the team is small in stature, and most of them are the dreaded 4-year olds that are lucky if they run in the right direction, I suppose I guess I’ll be selfish and root for Katie to score and hope that the rest of the team doesn’t get trampled underfoot.
Liz left at O’Dark Thirty, and by 8:00 I decided to get up with Katie. She wanted breakfast, and what was I going to make her for breakfast.
She asked for French toast, which I declined at first. But the more I thought about it, the yummier it sounded, so French toast it was! She also wanted hash browns, and you know, why not? French toast, bacon and hash browns for everyone. Well, everyone currently in our house.
I cleaned up the kitchen a bit. We had been a bit behind in dishes and didn’t really catch up. We have a tendency to sometimes accumulate two loads in the sink thanks to the larger cooking apparati that take up room in the dishwasher, but I made room to clean the skillets and the griddle. Soon I was off and running on French toast. Yum!
And yum it was! We had enough bread in the open loaf for everyone, and we had plenty of bacon and hash browns. I was a cooking machine. I had tunes in my ears and a spatula in my hand, stirring, flipping, turning like a dervish.
Dee-lish it was. A breakfast fit for a soccer player.
While Katie got dressed, I got Kristin up and got her fed. The first thing she attacked was the bacon. It’s definitely nurture and not nature for my kids!
Katie was all set, and Kristin was all set, so out we went to the car to get ready for soccer. Except Dad forgot something, and then another thing, but that was it. NOW we were ready.
Even though I remembered that I forgot Kristin’s Cheerio supply about halfway to the soccer field, we were ready to GO to soccer.
After a stirring practice where Katie was more interested in exploring for butterflies and dandelions, the game started. Katie’s team played the orange team, who almost seemed to know a little bit of what they were supposed to do, and that meant that Katie’s gray team was in trouble. The touts in Vegas took the game off of the board, I here.
Right away, I knew something was afoot. There was this girl on the orange team that I think was named Isabel. She had two curly pigtails in her hair, and really resembled the character Freda from Peanuts (you know, the chick with the ‘naturally curly hair’).
Anyway, Isabel…or Satan....got the ball and Katie was running after her. Isabel scored, and I saw a smirk on her face. She smirked at Katie!
Isabel got the ball again, got close to the goal, but it went wide. But she thought enough of her soccer prowess that she smirked and then ran away in a nonchalant fashion.
Katie got her revenge, though. Sometimes they let the kids play a bit when the ball goes out of bounds, and on one of those occasions, the ball came back to Katie and she dribbled down and put it through the goal.
Take it away Andres Cantor!
The quarter ended and Katie was happy with herself, but she wasn’t falling all over with glee.
She played two other quarters, and Isabel…or Satan…had a couple more opportunities to smirk. And she did, at Katie, since Katie was the only one on her team that could keep up with her, really.
Then, late in the game, the ball squirted out of a pack of kids, hit a coach, and Katie was right there. Two dribbles, a kick, and…Andres, if you will…
After shaking hands and procuring the snack (Goldfish crackers and orange Gatorade – quite a haul) we walked back to the car. As I was putting the kids in the car seat I got Liz on the phone. She talked to Katie and Katie talked about her goals.
And then she told Liz about Isabel…or Satan.
It seems that each time that she scored, not only did she smirk, but she said “Hah hah!” in a Nelson Muntz-like fashion. Katie just ignored her. Go Katie!
But, I think that she has a nemesis now.
A little rivalry is good for the soul at times, right?
So, home we went, for sandwiches, fruit and milk, and to relive the scoring of the goal. That, of course was the talk of the day.
Well it was until Basim’s mom called and asked if Katie could come over to play with Basim on Sunday afternoon.
Goal, what goal? There’s a play date afoot!