foo'D'ball out! foo'T'ball in!

About children and football

foo'D'ball out foo'T'ball in!

A food Ball, a big piece of round chocolate, carefully wrapped in golden, glittery paper, fell out of my son's mouth. Plunk!.. It fell to the ground, lost its pride and shape.

I picked up my son's attitude, left the shapeless ball of chocolate on the ground to suffer humility. My son was caught in the emotional turbulence there. Between a refrigerator and my husband, my son stood seeking my help! I couldn't perform my mommy stunts in that context to save my son. Nay it doesn't work that way, I thought. Instead, I became a wooden clutch, a semi-human, semi-wooden like clutch to my son's soft, nae, pink cheeks. He leaned on me as he suffered a slap from my husband a blink ago. All he did was ask the man of the house for one more chocolate!

That's how and that's why the food ball was out of his mouth. What came into his life? It was a ball for his feet! My husband kicked a football towards my son. "Kick it!" he said.

My son seemed to have gotten confused about the definition of love here. Was giving the nature of love? Or taking his happiness away was love? Was mom's kiss, along with a 'good night' love? Or were the acts of Dad throwing away his favourite chocolate and asking him to kick an alien ball called love?

He didn't know what to do with the ball in the middle of the bright new hall anyway! Like a dog, he gyrated around the strange new ball in the room. He sniffed his parents' minds that were wrapped around the ball. He sensed his parents' plans to send him for the football coaching that evening!

We plugged our ears with cotton when he screamed out loud for his free time. This time, we were determined. We had to send him for the football coaching. We packed his studs, combed his hair and walked towards the football coaching center with our parental pride.

He ran next to us, crying, cursing us, he doesn't want to kick a petty ball, he doesn't want to get hit by a ball, he had never dreamed of a situation around feet and ball.

He said, he hated all kinds of balls. My husband couldn't hide his laughter. He busted.

My little one demanded popcorn, orange juice, cream and waffles on the way to the football center.

We ended up kissing him more and telling him "no more food balls"!
"Just Football!"