I don't want to

I don't want to put your shin guards on you.

Or your socks.

I know it's hard. But seriously? You're almost 10.

Yes, I'll help you get your gear on.

Although you don't know it, I'm sorry your fingers don't work as well as your younger brother's.

I'm glad you can put your cleats on.

Yes, I'll tie your laces.

I hope the Nike self-lacing shoes aren't horribly expensive. But it's Nike. So it'll be a fucking fortune. You'd think--you'd THINK--they'd give us a break.

Yes, it's hot. A whopping 70* and you're complaining.

In my day, we walked up hill, both ways, to camp, in the searing 110* Tucson heat. Don't complain to me about being hot.

Yes, you can have a second frozen yogurt tube in the car on the way home. I know you worked hard at soccer.

Thank you for untying your cleats.

I don't want to take your socks off of you. You do it.

I don't want to take your shin guards off of you. You do it.

I know it's hard. But seriously? You're almost 10.

Daddy to the rescue. Thank you, Randy. 

I don't want to deal with autism. Or developmental delays.

And I know nobody else doesn't want to either.