Enriching Our Children

When our kids were around six months old, some of my friends (whom I love and adore, especially if they’re reading this) enrolled their children in swimming lessons. At the time, they were new friends, so I politely declined their suggestion that I join them. But what I was thinking was, “Hell no, I’m not going enroll my child in a class in which I have to get in the water with him. If I enroll my child in anything, it will be so I can leave to go sit and stare into space for awhile.”

Understanding the importance of (eventually) learning how to swim (which a 6-month-old cannot), my husband and I decided that instead of paying someone to watch us play with our child in the pool, we’d simply take him ourselves so he’d get used to the water. And, you know, once in a while we’d give him a bath.

I consider this “Hell no” line of thinking healthy. But it’s hard not to get wrapped up in all the options we parents have for enriching our children. (Raise your hand if you vomit in your mouth when you hear that word.) A couple years after saying no to swimming, I discovered I’d become wrapped up in the options myself.

A local soccer club offered lessons for three-year-olds. Our son was three, he seemed to like to run and kick things, so we enrolled him. He enjoyed it for the most part, so we continued with the program. Our son had just turned four, which meant he was now part of the 4-5 year-old class, which meant they had Saturday games in addition to practice.

I was excited, moved by memories of my own childhood games (never mind that I was 8 or 9 in these memories). But within the first five minutes of the first game, I knew we’d made a mistake. Why? Two things. First, the constant barrage of “encouragements” yelled out across the field by parents made me want to slip away. Since my son is like me, I knew this was going to be no fun for him. Too many adults were taking this way too seriously. While they weren’t negative, who wants to have people constantly—constantly—telling them to “Kick it! Good job! Grab it! There you go! There you go! Alright, now! Great – yes! Get it, get it, get it!!!”

No pressure, kids. Really. It’s all just fun.

Second, within the first five minutes my son discovered that the other team could, and should, steal the ball from him. This was not covered in practice and it did not align with his current values. So he decided to just walk back and forth alongside the action.

The second game he left the field halfway through. The third game, he sat down smack in the center of the soccer field and stayed there.

Why, you ask, did we have him participate in three games when I knew in the first five minutes that it was a mistake? Because I was wrapped up! Wrapped up in all the options! Organized sports provides exercise, lessons in teamwork, confidence. Didn’t you know? Plus, we had to encourage him to stick things out! (Forgetting that he hadn’t asked to participate.)

But my son unwrapped me. He reminded me, sitting out there patiently by himself in the middle of the field, what I already knew: he will do what he wants when he’s ready. He crawled when he was ready. He walked when he was ready. He sat on Santa’s lap when he was ready. He enjoys soccer practice; he will play a game when he’s ready.

And, anyway, did you also know that, “Although there are sports programs designed for preschoolers, it’s not until about age 6 or 7 that most kids develop the appropriate physical skills or the attention span needed to listen to directions and grasp the rules of the game”? (kidshealth.org)

Just because something good is offered—whether it’s 0% interest or a second donut or a soccer game—does not mean we have to take it.

 

The inspiration for this post

The inspiration for this post

Liverpudlians Heart Sousa

My husband, Alex, is off to London today with his father to watch the FA Cup Final: Chelsea vs. Liverpool. Alex has tried for years to turn me into a ranting and raving Liverpool football fan. I’m coming around. The songs, the chants, the British announcers, the beer at 6am local time…it all adds up to a festive atmosphere that is not hard to like. Yes, there is a lot of running, but I’m starting to buy the argument that the unbelievable goals peppered in are worth the wait.

I have, however, noticed some peculiarities about English football. Namely:

The season. The English football season is a web of games that ultimately leads to…I’m not sure. There are regular season games and cup games. (At least, that’s how I understand it–when Alex tries to explain it to me, my eyes wax over like they do when he tries to explain the 2008 financial crisis. That’s not entirely true–I understand the financial crisis.) The Cup Final that Alex is attending is apparently the Super Bowl of English Football, except Liverpool got there not by defeating teams in its own division (so-so record), but by defeating teams in a tournament.

The schedule. Last-minute changes to the team schedule are common. This makes planning difficult, especially since we are across the puddle, as they say. Apparently, the changes have something to do with the aforementioned tournaments, but I’m sure if the suits in the offices put their heads together, they can come up with a better solution.

The songs. Don’t get me wrong. I love that there are songs. What’s not to like about belting out tunes with strangers with whom you share a love for the team. What I find peculiar is that so many of the songs are sung to patriotic American tunes–tunes that are several decades, if not centuries, old. “When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again,” for instance. What is it about the American Civil War that inspires English football fans?

There’s also the “Liverpool” chant to Sousa’s “Stars and Stripes Forever” (try to keep up): “Liiivveerr..pool, Liverpool, Liverpool….Liverpool, Liverpool, Liverpoo-ul…Liverpool, Liverpool, Liverpoo-ul…Liverpoo–ul, LIVERPOOL!”

And let’s not forget the team anthem, the song that brings grown men to tears: “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” It’s a Rodgers and Hammerstein number from the musical Carousel. Because nothing says, “Bring it, Chelsea,” like a show tune.

But turn on any Liverpool game, and you’ll see thousands of strangers linking arms and swaying softly as they sing. Doesn’t exactly encourage fanatic bursts of enthusiasm, but maybe that’s the point. Football fans are a little crazy to begin with.

The game is Saturday morning, 11:15am Chicago time. Come On You Reds!