Soc-Him!

"Don't forget his water bottle," she said.

"U-huh," said I. My favorite news website was particularly interesting this morning.

"And I've left you a snack for him."

"U-huh."

"I'll see you at the field at 11:15. I map-quested the address for you."

"U-huh."

With that Stacy jetted off on some errand or another, leaving me to my computer and in full possession of N, consequently responsible for his life, health and general well-being, and even more important, for getting him to his first soccer practice. Brave woman. When I finally broke eye-contact with my computer monitor I was somewhat surprised to find N sitting near me staring forlornly up at me, giving me the distinct impression he'd been sitting there a while.

"Where's Mommy?" I asked.

"She's gone out," he answered. "She's been gone a long time."

Funny, I thought. I would have expected her to at least have said good-bye. I shrugged it off and contemplated the morning ahead of me. There were several errands I wanted to run. I had to pick up a couple of shirts I'd almost bought at Macy's the day before (but had forgotten a coupon), I needed to run by the bank to close an old account, and I had a couple of gadgets I needed to pick up at Best Buy. If Stacy was gone, I'd have to take N with me. No problem; N's easy.

I found some shoes for N and loaded him in the car and headed out on my rounds. There was something else I knew I needed to do; it was hovering in the back of my mind, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Got my shirts; closed my accounts; I was in the check-out line at Best Buy when N asked, "Are we going to soccer now?"

That was it! I knew there was something! But when? Where? I racked my brain. Stacy had said something about it being around 11-ish. I looked at my watch: 10:45 - yikes! Now where? I vaguely remembered seeing a map in a web browser window that I'd flipped past earlier while perusing my news sites. The details hadn't really stuck with me, but I did have a visual memory of the term "Nassan Field" and I remember it looked vaguely like a map of Palos Verdes. Not exactly hard evidence, but it was the best I had. I sprung out of the store, bond N to his booster seat and took off for PV. N sat mellowly in his seat, unflappable and rolling with it, as if he's seen this sort of thing many times before.

Providence smiled upon me. As I raced up the PV hill on Hawthorne Blvd., what did I see at the Palos Verdes Dr. N intersection?!? A sign for Nassan Field! I couldn't have found it more easily if I'd actually read the map. I pulled my Corolla into a parking spot right next to Stacy who was waiting in the minivan. It was a little after 11:00, but Stacy was smiling from the van, so I knew couldn't have been too late. I got N out and we met up with Mommy.

"Did you get his water bottle?"

"Huh?" The Mommy-smile faded somewhat.

"Did you give him his snack?"

"Huh?" Definitely no Mommy-smile now. I couldn't exactly make out the grumbling as Stacy snatched N's hand and proceeded toward the soccer field, but it sounded like it had something to do with some regret she had about something she did years ago. I followed a little at length with my tail between my legs. Fortunately once we got to the field and met N's soccer coach my myriad of sins seemed to have been forgotten.

We met the coach, Coach Clive, who's a Brit, or an Aussie, or a Kiwi, or a denizen of some unspecified, non-American, Anglophonic nation. (Of course, now he'll be proved to have been born and raised in Orange County.) We liked him; he was very "coachy" with a stereotypical outgoing personality. Immediately N got a case of the bashfuls and hid behind Stacy. Coach didn't take the lack of a high-fives too personally and gave us our gear and pointed us to the bathrooms. N's soccer lessons came with a cute little powder blue uniform, complete with shin guards and socks that came over most of his thigh. A few minutes later, Stacy and N emerged from the lady's room with N looking like a mini-David Beckham. Upon returning to the field, Coach made another attempt to engage N, but N went on hiding.

It didn't look too promising until three boys, each a year or two older than N (and equally powder blue), flew past him boisterously and out onto the field. In an instant N straightened up and let loose the death grip on Mommy's pant leg and was off full-steam after the boys. After that, he and Coach were buds.

N leads jumping jacks with Coach Clive.

N practices his "soccer statues."

It turned out to be a pretty warm day - actually it was rather hot. About twenty minutes into the practice Coach Clive called a "water break" and immediately all the little boys bee-lined it for their parents who magically produced water bottles for their children. N arrived looking rather winded and flushed. I noticed a brief return of the Mommy non-smile. N was shortly sent back to the field unquenched and every fifteen minutes would again be dismissed to his parental oasis-turned-mirage, where no relief was to be found. Each time he would be sent more flushed and panting back onto the field. About thirty to thirty-five minutes into the forty-five minute lesson N started to have a mid-field melt-down and things looked a little bleak for N (and by extension, me) until Coach Clive went over and gave him a little one-on-one pep talk. I don't know what he said, but suddenly N had the energy to finish out the practice in relative good cheer. Meanwhile, I slipped back to the out-buildings by the bathroom where again, wonder of wonders, Providence kicked in. There, gleaming like yet another mirage, was an Agua-Fresca vending machine! Never did I spend a happier dollar for water in my life.