Luca’s newfound love of soccer still burns hot. He plays the FIFA videogame constantly. He recently gave me such a drubbing in the game that I made him go practice piano.
He also will play in our yard with anyone who willing to risk the 100% chance of stepping in Grover poop.
Additionally, Luca plays every day during recess. Against the Mystery Mean Mexican team. I’m pretty sure that’s racist. No, I’m definitely sure that’s racist. But “mean” and “Mexican” are the only descriptors Luca will uses.
They are this band of non-English speaking kids who I pray are from Mexico. Every day they thump Luca and his buddies at soccer during recess.
At night when I put Luca to bed, he describes in great detail the atrocities perpetrated against he and his friends.
“Dad. Today, one of the mean kids kicked me in the stomach.”
“Dad. One of the mean kids cheated and kicked a goal after time was over.”
“Dad. The mean kids pushed Luciano down and stuck his head in the mud.”
To which I always ask, “Why on Earth do you play with these jerks?”
Luca’s love for soccer is greater than his desire not to get his head stuck in the mud by a gang of mean kids.
I ask him if he can at least narc on them and get them in trouble with the recess monitor. Luca says the recess monitor is advised on all bullying, cheating and mud/head smashing. He claims the monitor doesn’t care.
I imagine the recess monitor is either a 25 year old child herself who can’t seem to hold back the tidal wave of screaming that washes over her every day, or a 55 year old grizzled veteran who could give two rats’ asses if you came to her with a bloody stump where your arm used to be.
A week or so ago, Luca excitedly told me his ragtag group won against the Mystery Mean Mexican kids. Yes! A win against the baddies!
The next day, Luca said the Mystery Mean Mexican kids recruited the P.E. teacher to play on their team and trounced Luca’s pals.
I’m beginning to think this is a fictional team.