I'm Probably Most Like Lynette, But Without the Great Body or the Really Nice House, or....

So I thought about it and discussed it with Hubba-hubba. And then I signed Mr. Personality up for a soccer class.

Now, I in no way think I have a Pele on my hands or anything even remotely like that. My thought process was, hey, it involves running around with other kids outdoors. Sounds good to me.

I had a bit of resistance from Mr. Personality at first, even though I talked it up all week. I tried to explain what a coach was, and what he would be expected to do in class, and so on and so forth. After bribing him with the treat of eating inside McDonald's for dinner, (which so does not normally happen) we made it to the first practice with not too many screeches and only a slight reddening of the face.

I thought we were both fairly prepared for Kidsport Soccer, but I was completely unprepared for the coach.

I had noticed the instructor's name, and we will, for anonymity's sake, call him Fabio. Which to be truthful, isn't really that far off. I knew he had to be Italian with a name like that, and my heart warmed for a fellow countryman. I pictured him to be middle-aged, a bit of a receding hairline, but with nice legs. Round it out with a booming voice and somewhat tacky shirt, and you have my mental picture.

All I got right was the nice legs part.

Fabio looks like he belongs more at a Euro-trash nightclub in Ibizia than teaching 3-5 year olds at a city park. He has a very pronounced Italian accent, and everything he says is in a rather laconic Italian drawl, which I never knew could even exist, as normally Italians speak rather quickly. He is thirty, tops. He wore loud flowered board shorts and a bandana tied around his skull. His mirrored Oakley sunglasses matched his shorts. He is in great shape, and I think I counted about 6 or 7 gold chains around his neck.

This gave me a bit of a pause.

I know how kids can idolize their coaches/instructors, and I was concerned that my son would somehow begin to think he should look like this guy. Really, who wears multiple gold chains anymore?

He gave his introductory spiel to the parents at the beginning of practice, and I couldn't help but make a smart-ass comment that made everyone laugh. Uh, except him. I expect his eyes were rolling underneath his glasses at the impertinence of American women. The blonde standing in front of him who could stand to lose more than a few pounds in particular.

But, he and his sweet and attractive young assistant were very good with the kids. Even though he insisted that I be right next to him the entire time, Mr. Personality had a blast, and can't wait to go again next week.

As we were leaving, I noticed a rather loud rumble coming down the parking lot. Exiting rather hastily was Fabio in, I kid you not, a Lamborghini.

I couldn't help but do a double take. How often do you see that kind of thing at a suburban park?

Great, just go ahead and apply the "Desperate Housewife" sticker on my forehead right now.