That Asian Soccer Mom

This month Judah started his first sport: soccer.

Little known facts: Captain America plays soccer and my preschooler has chiseled abs.

I signed him up for soccer because (1) it meets conveniently 5 minutes away from my house and (2) I'm hoping all the running around will make him melt like a pat of butter into his pillow at bedtime.

And now I'm embarrassed to admit I've become that mom. That soccer mom, to be exact. I can't help it. Whenever I see Judah dribbling on the field I just have to shout encouragements at him--Good job! Don't use your hands! Wrong goal! Go the other way!

Okay, so they're mostly instructions and not so much praises. So I guess I'm that Asian soccer mom.

Those over-sized jerseys just melt my heart.

But seriously, there is so much joy in watching your kid run around and learn new skills. And there's nothing like that look of pride in your kid's eyes when he knows he's accomplished something--even something as small as kicking the ball in between his partner's spread-eagle legs.

Me and Noah taking a break from our cheer-leading duties.

I can't imagine how thrilling it would be to see Judah score a goal one day (in the right goal, that is). Judah is the opposite of athletic so I'm pretty sure that will never happen. But either way, I'll probably be on the sidelines shouting myself hoarse.