This year we had our first taste of being football parents. It was flag football and I have been assured that it was only a fraction of what real football is.
I have not made any hard and fast decisions about the football world. I dragged my feet until the last possible second to put H. on a flag football team. In fact I dragged my feet so long that he ended up on a 3rd and 4th grade team.
Good thing it was flag since there is a profound difference in the size of a second grade boy and a 4th grade boy.
After every game H. asked the same question, "When can I play real football?" Again and again we said, "Let's see how this goes."
We made it to the end of the season he is still asking and Brent and I are staring at each other trying to figure out how to get out of it. We haven't come up with any brilliant reasons. So if you have any lying around send them my way.
I guess my major concern is that he will get hurt. Football is a crunch and munch type of game. In fact it seems to me the whole point of the game is to hurt the other team.
This is the whole boys are boys conversation. I get that!
However, I ask if it is that great of a sport why are we the only country who plays this game? (I don't know the rules to rugby so I'm going to pretend it is a nice gentlemen sport in order to support my own theory that football is bad. Please do not enlighten me. Pretty please.)
I have about six more months to drag my feet. Which I plan on doing every step of the way. Meanwhile, I'm going to post the following pictures and pretend that I don't see how much fun H. is having. I'm great with denial!
Line up
They're off
Somewhere in the middle is the boy with the ball and my kid.
Yup, that is my baby with the flags! He stopped that sucker in his footsteps with a flying leap.
Oh who am I kidding come next fall we are going to be "REAL" Football parents.
I have not made any hard and fast decisions about the football world. I dragged my feet until the last possible second to put H. on a flag football team. In fact I dragged my feet so long that he ended up on a 3rd and 4th grade team.
Good thing it was flag since there is a profound difference in the size of a second grade boy and a 4th grade boy.
After every game H. asked the same question, "When can I play real football?" Again and again we said, "Let's see how this goes."
We made it to the end of the season he is still asking and Brent and I are staring at each other trying to figure out how to get out of it. We haven't come up with any brilliant reasons. So if you have any lying around send them my way.
I guess my major concern is that he will get hurt. Football is a crunch and munch type of game. In fact it seems to me the whole point of the game is to hurt the other team.
This is the whole boys are boys conversation. I get that!
However, I ask if it is that great of a sport why are we the only country who plays this game? (I don't know the rules to rugby so I'm going to pretend it is a nice gentlemen sport in order to support my own theory that football is bad. Please do not enlighten me. Pretty please.)
I have about six more months to drag my feet. Which I plan on doing every step of the way. Meanwhile, I'm going to post the following pictures and pretend that I don't see how much fun H. is having. I'm great with denial!
Line up
They're off
Somewhere in the middle is the boy with the ball and my kid.
Yup, that is my baby with the flags! He stopped that sucker in his footsteps with a flying leap.
Oh who am I kidding come next fall we are going to be "REAL" Football parents.
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