Last month signups for fall soccer began in our small town. We asked Monkey if he wanted to play – a big “YES” was the reply – so we got him signed up. BHE did the signup and at the time, signed up to assist. He did this as much to be involved as to ease himself into learning about the game, because maybe, if Monkey got super-involved in it, MAYBE he would coach one year.
But mainly, BHE signed up to be sure the coach wasn’t a big psycho. Heh.
So, I get a call from BHE while in the Walmart picking up Spiderman PJs for the Monkey (on clearance for $7, ya’ll).
BHE: “I got a call from [local soccer bureau]?”
BHE: “They said they don’t have enough coaches for next year, and they need me to coach.”
Me: “Did you tell them that you know nothing about soccer?”
Me: “Well, what did they say?”
BHE: “They paused. Then they said they just really needed coaches.”
Me: “So you’re coaching.”
Now, ya’ll should know that, despite his total inexperience in the area (BHE has never even played soccer, much less coached it before), I am sure BHE will rock as a coach because he can do anything he sets his mind to. However, just in case, we ordered this book today, and about died when we read the inside flap description: “You thought you were just going to sign up your child for the youth league. Now here you are, a newly annointed coach. You didn’t ask for it, but it happened anyway. Now you need help.”
Boy, does he need help. Ya’ll, he’s teaching 4 year olds soccer, and at this point knows about as much as they do about the game. Plus, he’s going to be Monkey’s coach – and after my last round teaching his class for Sunday School, we kinda swore that this was the last time until he was a bit older.
They’ll have fun. But is it mean that I giggle my way through the rest of my Wally World run?