Jason and the boys are pretty into the World Cup. I am...sometimes in the room while the games are on. I can appreciate the whole thing — especially if we're out viewing it at a family-friendly dining establishment that boasts an excellent beer selection and decent fries, so I can feel like we're all bonding while also stuffing my face for 90+ solid minutes — but my overall enthusiasm for/interest in soccer remains at this level:
But watching the games has definitely sparked the boys' (previously tepid-to-nonexistent) interest in the game, and they've been dragging the soccer goals and ball out regularly for their own World Cup tournament.
This is the World Cup, BTW:
I don't know. But it's a very big deal.
(I also like how Ezra insists on wearing a proper soccer jersey, but neither of them will listen to my suggestion that they wear proper shoes, no matter how many times the stupid Crocs go flying farther than the ball.)
The competition is fierce, yet wildly, unevenly matched.
The concept of letting your little brother score just one measly goal, come on, man, have a heart is not one that Noah is familiar with or interested in, like many big brothers.
But Ezra has definitely picked up some new techniques after watching the pros.
"HIS FOOT TOUCHED MY LEG. MY LEG IS BROKEN."
Unlike some of the World Cup refs, I did not reward his dramatics with a favorable call. So he quit.
Noah promptly took advantage of the abandoned goal.
And Ezra came back out to try again, and again, and again.