the curly-headed imp

My youngest son, T, who is five, has been affectionately nicknamed Spongebob for several years. You'd have to see the grin. Tonight I ask myself if signing him up for football was a mistake. It seemed such a natural thing. The boy has been able to tackle a full-grown adult since he was 18 months old. When pregnant with my daughter, I was told by the doctors to wear pillows around my mid-section to protect from his head-butting hugs. But, the same power behind those acts of aggressive love is the power which makes football stressful. He is simply not a respector of personal space.

During practice, there is much standing in line. Have you any idea what happens when a bunch of 5-7 year old boys stand in line, one behind the other? Normally, there is just a bit of jostling, joking, knocking each other slightly sideways - unless the one behind you is my son.

The sudden grinning appearance of a panting, drooling bobblehead mere centimeters from your face is sometimes a mite uncomfortable. Turn your back, and he will press against you and breathe loudly in your ear or wrap his arms around you and swing back and forth. It is a joke to him.

I tried being his buddy and standing in line with him. The thing is, when he gets in a certain mood, while you are trying to discipline him, he presses his nose against yours and looks right in your eyes. You try to back him off and he does the "go limp" thing. The more you try to stop him, the funnier he finds the joke. As soon as you walk far enough away, he tries to get as close to someone as possible without touching them. My goodness I am glad it is the DH's turn next practice!

Donations of advice or duct tape will be accepted. Thank you.