Oh the joys of having a sensitive/anxious boy.
Henry has been expressing some anxiety and eagerness about playing soccer. ALL of his guy friends play soccer on a team. Our neighbor plays year round. It's what boys around here do. And it's great. Henry seems to want to play and at the same time he is scared. Worried that he won't be good enough? Not feeling very competitive?
So of course, I am nervous for him but totally pretending I am not.
Deep inside I am thinking about whether there will be any of those lunatic parents around. Ya know the ones who yell at the coaches for playing the lanky/ slightly awkward boy with the vision impairment. Because, we all know that a soccer game played by 8 yr. olds is the most important thing and we should all be getting in fist fights over it. And I am also worried about other snickering children. A few weeks ago I witnessed some of Henry's friends chuckling because he kept missing the ball when they were playing "tennis" in the front yard. He did not notice they were laughing so I did not say a word. Should I have? I have intervened in the past but I feel pretty strongly about not doing it in front of him. I want to empower him and not take care of every little thing. And yet. My heart breaks.
The silver lining is that Matt has volunteered to be the assistant coach. And soon he and Henry will bond over buying cleats, shin guards, a sweat band for his unruly curls and they will top it off with meatball subs as they are want to do.
One of the hardest things about parenting is letting go, and letting them get hurt. Knee scrapes and splinters are nothing compared to the anguish you want to prevent from an unkind word.
I am so glad he still lets me hug him to pieces. It is my one solace. That and chocolate.