I would just like to state for the record that although my younger son (aka the Tiger) may never play in the World Cup, today on the soccer fields he distinguished himself as no other player has done in the illustrious history of the game.
He started doing the Chicken Dance during the quarter break. He continued with it while trotting around the field. And he performed the Chicken Dance while executing a pretty decent corner kick. I know Maradona and Ronaldo were bad-asses – but did they ever pull off a Chicken Dance? (The question doesn’t even arise for the German contingent: Franz Beckenbauer, Lothar Matthäus, Rudi Völler. These men don’t dance. They scowl, and then they win.)
Anyway, this pretty well kills my theory that the Tiger made a massive developmental leap over the winter. Or not? He did kick a goal early in the season – his first and only – and he now generally runs toward the ball, not away from it. His reading is approaching a tipover point: he’s just starting to read Junie B. Jones, albeit with middlin’ comprehension and the lisp of a Toothless Tiger. This weekend, he vacuumed my beloved porch furniture with alacrity and pride. He hasn’t broken any limbs since, um, January.
But back to the beautiful game. I don’t know if you can be a chicken dancer while missing four front teeth, though I’m positive it’s no hindrance to a soccer career. (Or so I remember earlier British teams, anyway.) Fortunately a six-year-old charmer can be beautiful even while his smile asymptotically approaches a jack-o-lantern’s.
I’m less certain about the fate of loser Tooth Fairies. The Tiger lost so many teeth so fast that I once again became the world’s worst tooth fairy. Uff da! I spaced out on the dollar-for-tooth swap after he lost tooth #3 (out of four). Sadly, loser tooth fairydom is well-trodden ground for me. Amends were made the next night.
Luckily the Tiger has a soft spot for LOLcats …
(Note the striking resemblance to a purrito. Or maybe this is just a Scottish fold kitteh, as my older son proposed.)