Dexter, bless him, has been pestering me for months to join a football team. He had trained with a club years ago but (long story) we had to leave and so, understandably, he has missed it.
Thing is, working full time AND blogging meant that my weekends were precious and, if I’m honest, I just wasn’t prepared to travel all over Kent every weekend taking him to football matches on Saturday and Sunday. I did it for more than five years with his older brother and yes, I know in the Parenting Handbook it probably says what you do for one child you have to do for the other, but I chose not to read that chapter.
Anyway, as you know, my employment circumstances have changed somewhat recently and it has freed some extra time so last week I took Dexter along to a local club to try out training with them.
We went again today and somehow, he now seems be the new member of their squad, starting tomorrow!
The cost of joining had meant that joining was prohibitive but after explaining to the guy who runs the club, he’s kindly agreed I can pay a little each week.
I know what to expect. Cold, wet, windy weather. Flasks of tea. Blankets. Lots of blankets. Tears. Laughter. Shouts from the sideline. Excitement. A big sense of pride.
He’s already wearing his new kit and I doubt he’ll take it off until after tomorrow’s match and as I look at him, I understand why it was so important for him. A sense of belonging, camaraderie, fun with boys his own age, and I think the time is right for him to go on this adventure.
Quite whether I am ready, however, is another matter.