Kid's soccer games are AWESOME.
I got to see my nephew play this past weekend. It had been raining the previous 36 hours or so, but there was just enough bare soggy ground visible between the puddles for the kids to play.
We were greeted in the stands almost immediately by a cute little toddler boy with an unhealthy interest in bird poop. Every time he'd see a little white speck on the seats, he'd pick it up. "Momma, it's bird POOP!", he'd squeal. His mom was not impressed. "Put that down! I can't take you anywhere!"
Cute little toddler boy had no idea he was in trouble. He happily plopped down the bird poop with one hand and offered his sucker to my wife with the other. "Wanna lick?"
Also in the stands, my niece was a lot of fun. She pulled a stocking cap over her face and announced, "Uncle Jeff! Look! I'm a [whopper]!"
I put that last word in brackets because I have no idea what she actually said. But it sounded a little like "Whopper", so I rolled with it. "You're a Whopper?", I asked. She laughed and loudly denied being a food item. "Does that mean you've got pickles?" "Yes!", she agreed, "In my hat!" Her little friend sitting next to her started calling her "Pickle-Head", a nickname that she didn't seem to mind in the least.
Of course the big star of the show was my nephew, who was mostly vertical out on the soccer field. He's getting pretty good... he even scored two goals! One of his teammates fell down untouched after the start of the second half. While the other players kept running up and down the field, he got up and looked at his parents. "There's a hole in the field," he calmly explained. "Get your head in the game!", his mother retorted.
There must have been lots of "holes in the field", because nobody came out of the game with a mudless hinder.
After the game we all got up to leave. I stood next to my wife while the mother of the cute little toddler boy grabbed his hand and said her goodbyes. Cute little toddler boy look up and pointed at me. "That one's tall!," he began and then moved his focus over to my wife, "And that one's [grunt]." He squatted down and made a sound that meant "short" in his little mind.
While walking to the car, my nephew told us that he's one of just two boys on his team to have nicknames. One of his friends is nicknamed "Nose Counter", apparently because of a nose-picking habit. "And *my* nickname,..." he happily shared, "Is Skinny-Legs!"
My sister tried to be nice. "Honey, I'm not sure those are compliments."
Nephew just shrugged. He didn't mind.
Nose Counter and Skinny Legs. Sounds like a super-hero crime-fighting duo to me!