When you are the mother of four children--children so utterly different from one another--you cannot help but marvel at their gifts. You cannot help to wonder where said gifts come from.
Oldest Daughter saw a violinist on PBS when she was not even THREE and said, "THAT'S what I am going to do with my life." She begged for violin lessons for a year. I finally caved. She leaves for college in August. To study? Violin.
Oldest Son at age 3 was doing 3rd-grade math in his head. He picked up the game of chess in an hour. An HOUR. As a first-grader or something equally ridiculous.
Baby Girl can make such beautiful art . . . it inspires. She had her work in a small show tonight.
And along comes Demon Baby. Yes, he has a gift for mayhem. But . . . he is also a born athlete. Yesterday, Demon Baby started soccer. (I conveniently didn't tell "Coach Ted" he was actually coaching a Demon and let Coach Ted believe Demon is a cute kid with dimples.) Demon Baby just turned 3 two weeks ago. Yesterday was his first soccer practice. He ran like the wind, he kicked, he scored. Ah, but it was more than that. He's THREE. On the field, as he waited for practice to start, he walked and tossed the ball in the air, catching it. Not concentrating. Just toss, catch, toss, catch, toss, catch, like breathing, this natural thing. Walking, talking, tossing, catching. I am lucky I can walk and chew gum at the same time, that's how athletic I am. When it came time to listen to the coach, he plopped his ball down and sat on it, looking, to all the world, like David Beckhan in miniature.
I love the NY Giants. I love the Yankees. I like a good game of volleyball. I like to play field hockey (haven't since high school). I like yoga. But I am not athlete. I signed up Demon Baby for soccer for one reason and one reason ONLY. To exhaust the hell out of him so he would go to bed on time.
But I marvel at his gifts. His natural talent. Soccer beats releasing the python, toilet papering the hallway, and tossing syrup at the walls any day of the week! I am now, officially, a Soccer Mom. Expect the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse to ride through at any moment.