“They said he was the worst kick ball player ever.”
“BR said,” my wife continues as we are lying in bed “that the kids said he is the worst kickball player ever.”
“Who said it,” I replied angrily? When I hear this, my first reaction is to yell at all the kids or even worse.
“He didn’t say names. He just said a bunch of kids.”
I buzzed my wife to give me more details about BR and what occurred. “Yes, he is unhappy about it. No, he didn’t say anything back at them. I don’t know why he didn’t say anything back at him. I told him next time someone says something mean to him, he should use his voice and tell them to stop just like Flat Stanley (children’s book) did. He is anxious for Tuesday. Because on Tuesday, he is going to be the captain of the team.”
Now, I am worried about Tuesday. I don’t want him to embarrass himself, feel bad about the situation, or be over anxious. I was solid at sports as a child. In fact, sports was the activity where I felt most comfortable. My shyness melted away and an aggressive comfortable me burst out. I worried that my children would inherit my shyness and struggle because of it. I did not worry about sports. Isn’t it enough that children tend to inherit their parents’ weaknesses – do they have to add their own? Well, both BR and my younger son, SJ have o.t. issues and are not particularly coordinated. Deep down, their lack of sports prowess has been a bit of a disappointment, but ultimately, it is not important. My wife and I did not reproduce, so I can have someone to have a catch with.
I will practice with BR before his big day, I promise myself. We’ve practiced sports before, but it usually doesn’t go very well. He doesn’t want to listen. I grow frustrated. He gets frustrated. One of us slams the door while heading back inside the house while the other is left outside shaking their head and mumbling. There goes my father of the year award. I promise myself that this time I will try and be extra patient. I hope it works, I hope he is happy, and I hope he knows I love him.