CJ’s soccer class is struggling. Full of 3 and 4 year old “high-energy” (e.g. out of control) boys and one girl, it’s typically rather painful to watch the coach try to coerce the unruly ragamuffins into a) listening, b) following instructions, and c) not wrapping themselves up in the net (their FAVORITE activity).

So it probably shouldn’t be a surprise that the first coach quit, followed by the second. The kids are chewing ‘em up and spitting ‘em out.

Note to 20-something men: you may be good soccer players, but you’re no match for a handful of preschoolers.

This week, when I saw the latest victim… I mean COACH, I was really worried. He looked to be no older than 16. Oh boy, I thought, they’re going to EAT HIM ALIVE.

Shockingly, he actually proved to be a match for the task. Maybe it was all the youthful energy.

At the start of the class, the coach had the kids sit in a line and one-by-one state their name and what they want to be when they grow up.

Matthew: A firefighter AND a jet pilot

Tommy: A firefighter

Joey: A race car driver

Emma: A ballerina

David: Batman

CJ: (quietly) Super CJ.

Coach: What was that?

CJ: SUPER CJ!!

Yep, that’s my boy. Never one to follow the crowd!