It is official. We are certifiably insane. Bambino has been renamed yet again. We shall call him Futbaby. World Cup madness took hold here, and is sticking around.

He wakes up talking about soccer. He sleeps with a ball, on occasion.

Due to his OCD-level of fervor for the beautiful game, we decided to try toddler soccer. Like I said, we are certifiably insane. Toddler soccer involves a group of feral under-3 year olds who run around and generally disregard instructions. My son particularly likes to drop-kick soccer balls when he’s supposed to be sitting attentively in a circle with his coaches.

Honestly, the class is more about physical activity, playing nicely, and being outside. The coaches are infinitely patient and kind. There are a lot of worse things you could do on a Saturday morning.

However, as a child who participated in sports, and lived the competitive sports family lifestyle, I am forced to pause. I am painfully aware that the modern youth sports scene “demands” that kids specialize early, and that the competitive sports world of my childhood now seems idyllic comparatively.

When Futbaby decides he is Hockeybaby, or Dancebaby, or Techbaby, I will support him. This is fun right now. Thankfully, no one is treating toddler soccer like a developmental league. Yet.

So, we will continue to kick goals, watch the occasional match, and sing futbol songs. I found a wonderful children’s book about South Africa, soccer, and the end of apartheid. It is one of Bambino’s new favorites.

Sports can teach us valuable lessons, good and bad. It grabs his attention and imagination. It makes him run, and laugh, and sing. These are the things that childhood should be made of. When it stops being fun, we will find joy in other places. Until then, GOOOOOOL!