With the advent of 2010, a new chapter opened in our lives. A slight shift, if you will. Sophie started playing club volleyball and my husband started consulting drill books, measuring her vertical, and trying to play catch with her and a medicine ball.
Have you ever played catch with a medicine ball, dear reader? I assure you, it's quite a gas. Especially when it's late at night and you're laughing like crazy and begging your husband not to throw it, but he does anyway. Talk about fun.
Given that both he and I played a lot of sports growing up, it may seem odd we haven't gone haywire in this area with our own kids up until now. I don't know what to tell you. For the longest time, I thought Las Vegas was too hot to do anything that would increase one's heart rate (I'm only slightly joking, by the way). We do belong to a swim team, but I think there is an asterisk beside our name on the roster, and if you follow to the bottom of the page there is a note which says: not to be taken seriously.
It's not that we don't know how to make a commitment. It's just that we have too many other commitments.
So for now we are going to practices. We are attending high school games. We are figuring out the etiquette of sportsmanship.
But I have a funny feeling, when I attend Sophie's first real game, my decorum and good manners will go right out the window.