Soccer. We meet again.

Soccer season is upon us. Mathew is the star. For this one hour, all Hufford eyes are on him. Last year he refused to go on the field for the first 4 games. During game 4 I finally took him home in the middle of the game. It went like this:
Mom: Look! They are all having so much fun!
Coach: Hey Mat! Wanna play? C'mon buddy! Look! There are puddles on the field! Wanna come splash some puddles with me, buddy?
Mat: shows no indication that anyone is speaking to him
Mom: Dude, why are we here?
Coach: (gives me the "you want me to keep trying?" look)
Mom: gives "please go away so everyone will stop looking at us" look to the coach
Well meaning parents nearby: Hey Mat! Wanna go play with Miles on the field?
Would he like a drink?
Maybe little Jimmy can come off the field and invite him to join in? Please everyone stop looking at us!
At this point I'm sweating and wish I never paid the 35 bucks to do this.
Mom: Alright dude. I'm done. Let's go. If your not gonna play, then you're not staying for the snack.
Mat: No no! I'll play! I'll play!
Mom: Okay then (feeling smugly satisfied that I've taken care of the entire issue)
Coach comes out for new players after 3 minutes on the field
Coach: Ready to play Mat?
Mat: literally sinks deeper into his fold out chair and grips the seat with both hands. I'm sorry, I'm confused. Are we at the dentist's office?
Mom: C'mon Maffers. Let's get out there and support the team. You're team needs you! It'll be fun!
Mat: (this kid isn't movin)
Mom: Okay, let's go.

I start packing up and Mathew is wailing at the top of his lungs "NO! NO! I'll play! I will! I promise!" I am not to be fooled again, I'm putting my foot down. We are out of there. I end up with Megan on my hip, dragging Mathew with the other hand, kicking his stupid soccerball all the way to the car with parents giving me various looks of pity and disgust. I'm also dragging one adult and three child sized fold up chairs. Not to mention I'm in full swing pregnancy barf mode. Not a good day for the Huffords. (no...I'm not pregnant..remember? We're reminiscing?)

However!! Do not underestimate the power of the post-game snack. All week Mathew stewed over the fact that in order to get that bag of oreos and a Capri sun, he'd have to get on the field. Saturday rolled around and wonder of wonders...miracle of miracles! He acted like nothing ever happened. He played with the rest of the boys (granted, 3 of the 4 goals he made were for the other team) and we cheered like crazy!
Mathew. Last year with more cheeks and missing 3 inches.