Soccer has started

It's time for fall soccer. The 3 oldest are playing this year. Connor, 8, learned to bounce the ball on his knee. He's enthusiastic and works hard on the field. He drips sweat. His adherence to rules makes him an excellent goalie (he thinks "stand behind this line and don't let the ball hit the net" is a rule). Nobody has EVER scored with him in net.
Skye, 7, puts her hair up, ties her cleats in a double-knot and walks on to the field with authority. She is a natural. All the coaches want her on their team. She enjoys soccer, a lot, but her passion is dance. Still, she is confident and energetic on the field with surprising skill. It's a good sport for her.
Trew is 3, and small for his age. His xxs shin gaurds cover his knees. His cleats are an adorable size 8.5. Aside from the unfortunate patch of hair he trimmed by himself he is the cutest thing EVER walking toward the field.
Note that I said "toward" the field, not "onto" it. At the entrace he melted into a puddle. I picked him up, but he went "limp noodle" on me. I had the baby strapped on my back in a Mei Tai baby carrier (yay for me because I was about to need both arms). I scooped up Trew-Puddle and walked onto the field with him. I introduced him to the coach. He closed his eyes and lay on the ground. I explained that Trew felt he couldn't come out and play soccer because....... he never played before so he doesn't know how. The coach was great. My son was not.
I left him playing dead on the field and went to the bleachers. The other mothers nodded and smiled, one was holding her sobbing soccer star. A girl on the field was shrieking for her mommy- but her mommy hadn't stayed to watch. He'll get up soon, he'll want to kick the ball I figured. But that's not exactly how it went.
He started to army crawl, on his belly, pulling with his elbows. Shuffle shuffle shuffle freeze. Look around carefully, no guards, shuffle shuffle shuffle freeze. All the way off the field. I hugged him and carried him back out there. They were lining up to kick into the net. I lined up. A baby on my back, a boy on my hip, and one in the oven. My- uh his- turn came up. "Kick the ball sweetie" he dropped into a puddle again. I hoist him up. "OK! my turn!" I give a little kick. "now its your turn" I move him marionette-style up to the ball. I put his foot right at the ball. I use my foot to kick his foot into the ball. Oh goodie. This is gonna be FUN don'tcha think? And so it goes, until I score a goal with my puppet.
Back in line. The second time he kicked it. And the 3rd too. But as soon as he scored he hit the dirt and had to be carried away. You know what? Thats not really actually my favorite way to spend a Saturday if you can believe it.
"ok get up Trew. Mommy has to go sit with the other mommies now." he didn't get up. "mommies don't belong on the field" I say.
"well" he says, uncovering one eye "daddies do. Daddies get to be on the field and be helpers" He's right. There are dads on every field. Its cheap soccer and they are ALWAYS understaffed so they run around dragging daddy-assistants onto the field. "so." he says "give me dad then"
Hey there's a REASON it takes 2 to make a baby. Yes indeedy I do believe it IS daddy's turn. I head over to Connor and Skye's field to collect the dad. What in the WORLD? They've got MY husband out on the field helping to coach! He doesn't even know how to PLAY soccer. Great, just great. I find a man and say "hey I need your help" his response isn't in English and thats the only language I speak, so I move on. I find another dad.
"hi! I really need you" (blank stare, mild fear) "yeah sorry, look, see the guy out there with the blue hat? yeah I need him. His son is on the 3yr olds field and won't stand up unless daddy comes to save him. So you have to go take his place for a few minutes" (confusion, more fear)
"umm I can't..." he starts
"oh I know, look they do this every year. They just grab men and drag them out there. My husband doesn't know ANYTHING about soccer. Seriously, I'm surprised his kids aren't playing catch out there. Just go out and tell him 'your 3yr old needs you' and then tell the kids 'kick the ball' a lot. You'll be fine" (his wife is GLARING at me, I have never felt such hatred from a stranger before)
So Sucker-Pop heads out and Chris comes off the field. We get to Trews field and he is MISSING. He army crawled off again. Mother of the sobber is detaining him for us. He's sitting on a parking curb in full pout. Chris stands him up and jogs onto the field with him. Chris had him kicking the ball (although barely) so I left to watch my other kids. Chris lasted 15 minutes. Then he and Trew came to watch the last 10 minutes with me.
"I was his friend, I was his dad, I made it sound exciting, I bribed, I threatened, he's just DONE for today"
Oh well, I'm sure he'll do better on Wednesday. RIGHT?