It's All in the Genes

So the little one comes up to me this morning and says that she wants to get a soccer shirt. Befuddled, pre-coffee moi asks what kind of shirt--a t-shirt perhaps? Or maybe something with penguins kicking a soccer ball (don't get me started on the penguins!)? But no! She says she wants one like the guys I watch on TV have. Hmm, perhaps time to cut back on the FSC/GolTV addiction.

"We'll see . . ." says I of the dinosaur brain and not enough caffeine. "You like any of these?" I mutter as I fire up some random shirt-seller that Google directs me to and start scrolling. We don't even get through to "C" before she's picked out the two she wants (See how they do that? Daddy, daddy, I want a shirt! yeah, these two shirts!). Now, I'm not about to go and drop that kind of money for a kid's jersey on a 4-year old's latest whim, but the little tyke has got class coming out of her ears, because the two she naturally gravitates to are . . .


Not that I'm a supporter of either of those clubs, but it would be hard to steer a kid in a better direction to see some quality futbol. Almost brought a tear to my eye. Almost. Now, if we had reached the "D's" and her finger stabs at a certain black shirt, well . . .

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