The Light Blue Team

I was busy entertaining Jemma on the sidelines, so I couldn't hear, but here's what Annie's soccer coach must have been saying to her throughout tonight's practice (her team's first):

"OK, Annie, now, just sit on the ground and pick at the grass."

"Annie, your ponytail doesn't look quite right. Fuss with it. Make sure your hands are up there, messing with the elastic. Nope, still not good. Play with it a little more. Now, take your hair, put it in your mouth and chew on it. Yes!"

"Still hungry? I think you should take the drawstring from your shorts and see if it will reach your mouth. Look! It does! Chew on that for a while."

"Whenever you're making your way across the field with your ball, stop every once in a while and, you know, bend down and pick it up. Touch it a lot with your hands. Put it exactly where you want it to be, and then start kicking it again."

"When you're running, make sure your mouth is wide open and your tongue is weirdly sticking out as far as possible. That's how we do it, at soccer."

"OK, now, mid-scrimmage? Randomly hug one of your teammates. Yes, that girl, the one whose name you weren't clear on when you got to practice."

"Good practice, Annie! Now, on the way home, complain about how HOT and SWEATY and TIRED you are. Talk a lot about how uncomfortable your shin guards are. Say you hate your cleats. Tell your mom that soccer is toooooooooo loooooooooooong and you definitely don't want to play in your first game on Saturday morning, even though YOU are the one who said that yes, you did want to try soccer this fall. Just say it. Repeatedly."