When our kids are young, we have these plans, these thoughts as to what they will do when they get older, the things they will enjoy. I had NO doubt my son was going to like sports. He comes from a sports family and by the age of one, I could no longer and him anything in the shape of any kind of ball while in public because chances of him throwing it were 100%. So, I knew. He was going to be sporty.
Never in a million years did I think I would be here. Sitting on this bench, with my 10 year old son tying skates. And not just any skates. Inline skates. HOCKEY SKATES. No, never. No way this can be me. See, I’m a southern mom, raised in Alabama. When my kiddo was young, i gave him a ball – a basketball, a baseball, a football, just like any sensible southern mama would do. After all, those are the sports WE play. There were no pucks in MY life. I was certain he’d take after mom and play baseball. Or he’d be tall like my dad and play basketball.
And then it happened…at age six all my sporting dreams for this kid flew out the window when he brought home that dreadful flyer, accompanied by the words, “Mommy, I want to do this.” Hockey. Inline Hockey. This flyer appeared just one week after we had embarked in an adventure to the local skating rink for the first time. EVER. He couldn’t even stand up. He eventually refused to even get out on the floor. He spent his entire night skating on the carpet. And now he wants to do WHAT?!?
Hmmm…..that’s nice, I guess. We can try it. He won’t like it because my child also goes by the name Mr. Perfection. Once he sees he’s terrible, he will give it up and pick a different sport. A normal sport, because he has the desire to be the BEST and he will NOT be the best at this.
As you can see, he did not follow my plan. He fell in love. And I’ll be dog-goned if the kid didn’t turn out to be pretty stinking good. So. Here I sit. Tying skates.