The boy is a boy

Anselm's "Eliot's birthday" presents were a proper soccer ball and a proper basketball, and they have been in constant use. He told me today "Mum, I want to thank you again for my new balls. I love them." He wants to play pretty much all hometime hours (except when he is busy with a craft project-- this afternoon he spontaneously designed and made an end of year card for his teacher, with an opening shutter). We have been walking back down to school when I get home to play on the big open space there; today, soccer. Although he hasn't played, as far as I know, since last summer's low-key mixed sports camp (I think he avoids the schoolyard games), he's actually quite skilled and has boundless energy for running with the ball at his feet. He's been doing laps at school at lunch,working up to another mile, and the leap in his fitness level and his love of running is apparent (and kind of tiring). After dinner tonight, back to the alley for a game with Dad. Looks like a couple of sports camps are in order this summer. But they all seem so serious. I'm wondering about the balance-- when does too much organized time take the fun out of it? (The pictures below show how the two of them occupy themselves in the alley.)