Aidan is now knee- (or shin guard) deep in soccer season. And the boy loves it, despite the fact he has yet to figure out all the Xs and Os (are there Xs and Os in soccer?). But that's secondary to the smiles and laughter at this point, as Coach Ben has reminded me. 
Yet I've still found myself aggressively yelling, "Kick the ball into the net, Aidan!" more times than I care to admit. And a few games ago, I repeatedly questioned to other parents standing around me why the soccer whiz kid (think David Beckham Jr.) red head on the opposing team, who seemed to score at least 38 goals, played the entire game, rather than rotating out like the other players. 
Lord, please guard me against becoming an obnoxious soccer mom.
At least I don't drive a mini van ... and never will.
Go, Hampton Rapids!
He looks so happy! I know he's loving every minute of it. And I hope you've figured out a way to negotiate the stroller over the grass.
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