If you hang around for about five minutes, you'll probably discover something about Connor: he is passionate about soccer. He loves it!
He's been asking for a pair of goalie gloves lately, but that was only my first indication of his desire to be a goalie.
This morning he woke up as soon as Daddy closed the front door and left for work. I heard him scoot out of his bed and wander into the loft, where he started playing with his Thomas the Train table. I decided that I could safely stay in bed for a few minutes while Connor played with his trains, as the tracks make all sorts of train noises and I could be sure of what he was doing. Besides, Lex was still slumbering away peacefully in his crib.
Then I heard it.
Thump!
What was that?
Thump!
Hmm...did he just fall down?
Thump!
Well, he keeps doing it, so he must be fine.
Thump!
Oh wait - maybe he is climbing on the furniture and jumping off!
Thump!
I bet that isn't safe. I better get up and go see.
Thump!
He was pretending that the door to my bedroom was a goal, and he was playing soccer. He was being a goalie and diving onto the floor with reckless abandon in order to catch the imaginary soccer ball that was coming in low. Seriously. And he looked good doing it, too. His arms were outstretched and his form seemed, to me, to be perfect. I have little doubt that if there had been a real ball there, he would have caught it before it hit my door.
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