destructoBoy has been attending an Arsenal Training Club for the last couple of Friday nights. This is an invite only programme and undoubtedly means that one day my boy will be Captain of the England Team and lead them to the country's first Wold Cup victory since 1966.
That is if he doesn't drown first.
His first session last week took place during an the tail end of an all day downpour of very heavy, very cold, extremely wet rain. I lasted five minutes before heading back to read for an hour in the dry of the car.
This week it was cold but fortunately dry so I stood and watched. There was another mother and she and I chatted. She pointed out her sons, detailing the afterschool and Saturday clubs they attend. I commented on our lack of football knowledge and the fact that d/Boy has spent most of the Autumn choosing which Premier League club to support as neither CK nor myself have any allegiance. Or it must be said, interest.
We watched in silence for some more minutes stamping our feet and shivering politely side by side.
"So is that your younger son? The one wearing the Yeovil Town strip?" I asked knowledgeably, taking comfort in my recognition of the local football team.
We continued watching in deepening silence.