He's a Big Kid Now

Having kids means confronting "firsts" on a frequent basis that you may or may not be ready for. I fondly remember Andrew's first smile, first step, first word, first sentence --You do it!--, first day of school. However, this past weekend I realized that even bigger firsts are rapidly approaching.

In fourth grade at Andrew's school, Tackle Football begins, so last weekend was the sign up for football. He had been wavering about playing for a number of reasons:

1. Playing football eliminates the ability to play soccer in the fall. Football has practice 3-4 days a week during the week, and they play games on Saturday morning. Soccer wouldn't stand a chance in the face of that daunting schedule.

2. He is worried about being bored on the sideline. Ok- this could have just been an excuse bred of fear about number 3.

3. He is afraid of getting hurt. -- Yeah, I am afraid of that for him, too!- He is worried that some big fourth grader who weighs more than a couple of bags of solar salt may hurt him when knocking him over. Truly, this is a legitimate concern. Not even the thought of pads could deter him from this panic.

Yet, ultimately, he loves throwing the ball around and playing catch, so he decided that he wants to try it for next year. So, we went to sign ups on Saturday, and I watched very "Big Boy" things happen.

1. He had to try on a jersey and pads to find out what size he would be. First of all, that is so stinkin' cute to see a little nine year old in pads. And, it is so stinkin' scary to think of the reason he needs them.

2. He was running around high-fiving and talking to his friends from school. He reminded me of what his near future will be where his buddies are significantly cooler than mom.

3. When I was filling out the forms, I was stopped dead in my tracks at one line: Insurance provider and account number. I looked at the lady and inquired if I really needed to give her that. She scoffed at me and said "Of course- What is he gets hurt?" Hmm. . . Maybe Andrew's #3 concern is legitimate. Yikes!

So, I signed my life away and watched Andrew proudly claim the number 53 as his uniform number next year. (Secretly, I told him that his scrawny frame probably merits more like a 10 than a 53, but we will work on that later. ) For a moment, I paused to reflect on just how big he is getting. He is going to play football-- like real football. Not the football where I give him a mini football and he runs around the living room laughing like when he was two.

This "first" is a big one for me-- yet another reminder that his childhood is short lived and that I need to continue to savor every moment I have.