Being With Oscar

My grandson, Oscar, plays soccer. Sort of. He's four and a half which means he thinks he plays soccer. Yesterday evening I drove for an hour to watch him act like a water bug; running around in no particular direction with no specific plan. It was hilarious. He has two coaches who have the 12 kids run though drills; kick the ball like a penguin, like a turtle, right foot, left foot, then running as fast as they can. It's good training. Of course, when my little buddy doesn't like where he kicks the ball he picks it up and gingerly places it in a perfect position to score.
As soon as a coach says, "don't touch the ball", twenty-four hands react in the opposite. After fifteen minutes all the kids get a water break. You'd think they'd been in the Sahara for a month. Evidently, having your very own super special water bottle is a big deal. It adds to the aura of being a 'soccer player'.
Attention spans are entertaining and limited. For a four year old I think thirty seconds...tops. Then you'll see flapping arms or falling down on the ground for no apparent reason except that it's there. Some kids start crying because they haven't done it for a half hour. One kids mom made him wear an extra t-shirt so, what else, he cried. After practice the Big O acted like he was Pele'. We all congratulated him(Grandpa Murphy and Mom were there, too) on a job well done and told him how good he was. His response is typically something like, "I know" even though he's clueless. The nice thing is he's having fun.
This Thursday I'll drive to his pre-school and watch him trade Valentine's with his classmates. This'll be a special day for him. I know since I was with him when he excitedly made his card basket. It'll bring back fond memories of when his dad was his age and doing the same thing.
This grandpa gig is a pip!