Being 5 is So Cool

Most spring and summer weekdays, there are quite a few mommies and little ones at the park where I walk the dog—mostly right along the street side where our trip normally first takes us. I call it the mommy club, because it consists of mostly moms and their four to five-year-old little ones. The moms, grandma’s and a few dads and grandpas sit in lawn chairs, as the little ones are “coached” in the game of soccer. I use the coached loosely, not because the person doing the coaching is not qualified or knowledgeable, but because the little ones are in no way, shape, or form, coachable.

I watched as the coach, a pretty young woman with an August tan, knelt and instructed seven or so boys and girls. You could barely hear her, though she was speaking loudly, over the din of the youngsters. I listened as she said, “Okay, now, what I want you to do is for all of you on this side to kick the ball down to the goal, and I want those on this side to try and stop them from getting the ball to the goal.” The din became excited shrieking and shouting, as the children calmly decided who was going to kick the ball first. The mom/coach stood up and said—shouted, actually—“Okay when I say, go… “ She scrambled out of the way as all hell broke loose, little legs flying, body’s careening every which way, voices squealing, and, after about thirty seconds, the ball rolling feebly off to the side, coming to rest under one of the other mom’s lawn chairs.

Two of the little soccer players ran up to the mom in the chair, and stared at her like she was some sort of demon who’d confiscated the ball. I don’t think she’d even seen it go under the chair, as she was busy talking to the lady next to her. The braver of the two youngsters got down flat on his stomach and fished the ball out, being careful not to touch the woman’s leg. He was probably well aware of the ear-splitting shriek she would emit if his little arm should touch her when she wasn’t expecting it. Kid’s are smart like that.

Watching the scene as I walked past, made me smile. One of my first memories that I can still picture in my mind is from when I was about four, going on five. It was when my little brother was born, and I can still see the bundle of smelly joy as Mom set him in my lap, asking as she did so, “You want to hold him?” I remember thinking, “No,” but knowing somehow it wasn’t a question.

My point is, that’s how it is when you’re four or five years old. The world seems to be in slow motion, nothing makes a lot of sense, and adults are always telling you to do this, or that, knowing you’re only going to do it if you have to. Nothing really matters except what you’re doing at the instant you’re doing it. It’s a live for today kind of attitude. No…. more like live for the instant.

You know what I mean: Hey! There’s some mud, let’s touch it! Oh! Let’s sit in it! Okay, I want to run into the house and tell Mom about the mud!

Yep. Being a kid is so cool.

1 Comment »

  1. Sherry Mashburn said

    You captured it exactly! It IS live for the instant!!

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