The children are on half term at the moment – which under normal circumstances would mean the house is relatively peaceful on a morning. Of course normal circumstances rarely occur in our house – this morning Miss 15 was busy causing mayhem while preparing for the final day of a Rugby Union referee training course. Yes, you read that right – my middle daughter is training to be a rugby referee. She’s naturally bossy, so it’s almost a perfect fit.
Each of our children is wildly different than their siblings. Miss 18 is shy, reserved, and overly analytical of anything and everything. Miss 13 is a free spirit that drifts along aimlessly from day to day, effortlessly making friends, and living in her own little world for the most part. Miss 15 is headstrong, argumentative, agressive, abrupt – in many ways the polar opposite of her sisters.
Until last week she harboured dreams of being in the police when she’s older. She’s studying history and citizenship among her exam subjects at school – both of which naturally suit a career in uniform. The colour of that uniform may have changed last week though – following an army recruitment officer visiting a careers day at school.
Suddenly she want’s to “blow things up”.
Her enthusiasm for whatever she becomes involved in is infectious. In recent months she has been playing in goal for both the school and town hockey teams, as well as playing rugby on Sundays. The biggest problem with being in goal has been the kit – have you ever seen a hockey goal tender? You must have seen an ice hockey goalie – it’s essentially the same outfit, and can cost a considerable amount of money. Thus far she has been borrowing the school goalie kit when possible, and trudging across town, wheeling the bag behind her.
While she has been away on the referee course, my other half set to work on E-Bay, flexing her not inconsiderable auction skills. While selling all manner of old computers, game consoles and brick-a-brack from the attic over the last few weeks we have also been searching for pieces of hockey goalie kit.
When I got home from work this evening I walked in on a newly qualified rugby coach standing in the middle of the kitchen in a vest and boxer shorts, with a smile like a coat hanger, wearing three quarters of a field hockey goalie outfit. I have never seen her smile so much, or talk so fast. She also lucked into a couple of hockey sticks, and a bag of balls.
I have a feeling the green outside our house is going to turn into an unofficial training ground for the local girls hockey team this summer.