The sun begins to sink below the tallest of trees surrounding the field and I sigh a satisfied sigh. It's week two and my three girls are smiling as they charge the ball. That's a good sign. Soccer, in this league, is genius because all of my daughters practice and play on the same night on adjoining fields. I meander from team to team, cheering loudly and sometimes obnoxiously because it may be the last time for that particular child--until I make my rounds again. I take a few photographs, make sure each girl catches my wave, and all is well with our family.
After all the lugging balls, lawn chair, Oliver's sand toys and sweaty, thrown-off cleats back to the van, we "tailgate" it at Dairy Queen. It's so good that it's that time again.