Today was William’s first soccer game. His first game ever. On Wednesday, his coach had handed out the “uniforms”… you know, T-shirts and socks that match. You would have thought that this uniform hid some magical qualities the way he proudly wore it into my home right after the Wednesday practice.

Today, he was suited up with the coveted T-shirt, socks that match, cleats, and black soccer shorts. He had never played soccer before… ever… so as a Grandma, I held my breath with anticipation. I wasn’t sure how proficient the other kids would be. I didn’t know if the other kids knew each other off the field. I know that 3-year olds can take things like this pretty seriously.

But off he went. Gathered into the team huddle. And broke out ready to play. At first he was a bit timid… kind of gently kicking the ball down the field. But he caught onto the purpose of the game quickly, changing those little kicks into long strides, and those long strides into his very first goal. Everyone was cheering and yelling, “Yeah, William!” He loved it.

But something else was going on, too. Or someONE else, I might add.

When the coaches were starting a play over, or substituting players, or stopping the action of the game for any reason… I noticed that William would saunter over to one of the girls on the team and chat with her. And she chatted back. At one point, William ran over to Audrey and asked, “Mommy, how many weeks away is my birthday?”

Audrey said, “Two weeks.”

And he ran right over to this little girl in the matching team uniform and, I presume, tell her that his birthday is in two weeks. I even will go so far as to presume he invited this little lovely to his 4th birthday party.

I may be going out on a grandparent limb here… but I think he was smitten. Big time. This little girl has long, wavy raven-colored hair. She is just adorable. And they had a couple of real conversations out there on that soccer field.

Now how does a little guy in a soccer uniform impress a little girl with magic in her eyes? Yes, he scores goals. 6 of them. Each with a different twist. From the front. From the side. Full field. Half field. And even one with an *asterisk because he touched the ball with his hands on the way to that particular goal.

Ah. So why the anticipation on my part at the beginning of this adventure? Oh, I don’t know. ‘Cuz I’m a grandma and I want everything to always be OK?

OK.

Must I now worry about my little darling and a broken heart? Oh, spare me the pain!