The majority of our friends all have kids older than Baby Boy--and they all either play hockey or soccer. These two life-sucking sports turn otherwise vibrant and energetic people into travel-team Zombies. Ice time at 4am, driving 6 hours in a van for a three-day tourney--nothing is off limits for these fanatics.
Darling Husband I had the talk pre-conception that none of our kids would ever play these sports.
"Polo, fencing, tennis, golf...these are all acceptable," I jotted down.
"Or if he is small he can be a jockey," added DH as he signed the Non-Compete waiver.
Baby Boy had his Two Year Check-Up yesterday. Dr. Steve ran down the list of things BB should be doing at this age.
"Does he stack blocks? (Yes) Complete a two-step command? (Yes) Kick a ball?"
At this DH and I glanced at each other not knowing what to say. In our desire to never let BB near a kickable ball (hence he show some insane talent thereby forcing us to hire private coaches and devote our lives to following the World Cup) we had no idea if he could even attempt this skill.
As soon as we got home I put a tennis ball by BB's feet. He did kick it (about 5-inches). Enough to know he is normal but does not have David Beckham genes--which is good because I don't think I could ever be as skinny as Posh.
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