What I Love About Children

Last weekend, I took my Little Sister (I'm what they call a "Big" for Big Brothers Big Sisters) to a horse show. It was really fun and different, not something I would have ever chosen to do on my own.


And my Little loved it, just loved it.

But that's not what this post is about. This post is about something I overheard at the show that makes me laugh every time I remember it.

Behind us was a rather harried, very well-intentioned mom with several young kids in tow, including a little boy who was about four. The snippets of conversation I caught from them brought me back to my own life twenty years ago, when Brilliant & Kind and Hilarious & Gifted were young and impressionable. Every now and then, I'd get a wild hair that it was time to get out to do something fun as a family: No Saturday morning cartoons today! I'm going to be an Interesting and Involved Mom, and I'm going to take you to do something different, something stimulating, something many less fortunate children don't ever have the opportunity to do. I will expose you to something new, and you will become inspired in a new way about life!

Sometimes these outings provided great fun for everyone, but more often, someone in the group, for one reason or another, did not enjoy himself one tiny bit, and the day would unravel quickly and dramatically--best laid plans and all.

So I listened with empathy and compassion on this day to this mom, as she did her best to rally her troops. In an extra-animated, aren't-we-excited-to-be-at-this-very-cool-horse-show? voice, she explained in detail the merits and complexities of each rider and horse's routine and appearance, asking leading questions every now and then like "Isn't this amazing?" and "Aren't we having fun?" Between happy exchanges with my Little, I silently rooted for Mom, urging her kids to please, please, for her sake, just try to get at least a tiny little kick out of this?

And at first, they cooperated nicely, but after about forty minutes or so, it started getting old, and they started getting bored. Whiny requests for vendor food and beverage began to pepper the conversation. Siblings began to focus on and loudly point out what was annoying about each other. Mom pressed on admirably--deflecting, redirecting, so excited to see what was coming up next!! My heart went out to her.

And then, the dressage portion of the show began. The announcer, a folksy old cowboy with a winsome speaking style that wavered between frank and poetic, introduced a certain routine by heightening all of our expectations. "This is my very favorite routine in this portion of the show, ladies and gentlemen," he said. "You will never see anything so graceful in your life. Pay attention to how this rider has trained her horse to literally dance--moving sideways and forward at the same time. Please watch closely and enjoy fully what you are about to see, an amazing, beautiful floating gait."

"FLOATING GATE?" the little boy behind me yelled.

"Yes," distracted and hopeful Mom said, not quite getting his misunderstanding. "Watch now!"

"Where?" the little boy asked. "Where is it?"

"Right there!" the mom said. "Just watch the horse. Watch now."

"A floating gate!" the little boy said. "Cool!"

"Isn't it beautiful?" Mom said.

"But I don't see it!" the little boy said, getting kind of desperate. "I don't see the floating gate!"

"It's the way the horse is walking. That's the floating gait," Mom said. "See? Right there!"

I couldn't stand thinking about the inevitable crash that was coming, so I turned around and tapped the mom's leg gently. "I think he misunderstood--I think he thought he would see a gate--like a fence--floating in the air."

"Where is it, Mom?" said the little boy. "Where's the floating gate?"

And after she thanked me, mom, true to form, took the opportunity to enlighten and educate her terribly disappointed little son, explaining how a word can sometimes have more than one meaning, and what a homonym is, and what the announcer really meant by "floating gait."

I almost turned around to add a suggestion that their the next family outing could be to Japan, where they could see an actual floating gate at the Itsukushima Shrine.

But I thought better of it. She had enough to deal with. Bless her heart.

Soccer Tort

Saturday, Jeep Boy came home from soccer tryouts. He's played in the same elite club since he was four, and he'll be seventeen in two weeks. Thirteen years of two seasons a year, three or four practices a week, one to four games a weekend.

"How'd you do?" I asked him when he came loping into the living room, his long legs dragging to find their rhythm in that new, lanky gait.

"I'm quitting," he said. "I'm not going to do it anymore. I'm just not feeling it. It's not in me."

"Wow," I said. He'd been toying with the idea of quitting for a while, but I didn't think he'd actually do it. His mom's boyfriend is a former pro soccer player who runs the club Jeep Boy plays in. He committed to coaching Jeep Boy's team this season when Jeep Boy said he didn't like his other coach, and I imagine--well, I know--that in that house, there's more than a little pressure for Jeep Boy to fully dedicate himself to soccer, both as a sport and as a stepping stone to college. The fact that he has amazing natural ability probably makes it even more frustrating to both of them to have watched his interest wane over the last year.

"Well, you've been saying you haven't been so excited about it lately. How's it feel to make that decision?"

He smiled shyly. "Great," he said. "I feel like a weight is off my shoulders. I saw those other kids today who really want it, and who really try hard and take it so seriously. And I'm just not there with that."

"Then good for you," I said. "Good for you for doing what feels right to you."

He clapped his hands together, got up and went into the kitchen to tell his dad.

Perfect Man, of course, was perfect about it. "It's certainly not like you never gave it a shot, honey," he said. "You've been doing this almost your whole life. There are a lot of other things in the world to do, a lot of other ways you can have fun and stay strong."

"Mom thinks I'm just quitting because it got hard," Jeep Boy said. "But that's not it. I just don't want to do it anymore. I think she's disappointed in me."

"Hmm," Perfect Man said.

"But what she thinks doesn't matter," Jeep Boy said.

"Not in this case, it doesn't," Perfect Man said. "This is your decision."

"Yeah," Jeep Boy said, and then, trying out something completely uncharacteristic, he said,
"Screw what she thinks."

"Hey now," Perfect Man said, with perfect reproach. "None of that."

So this is a whole new episode in Jeep Boy's life. He's choosing to remove himself from a sport and a culture that has identified him since he was in pre-school. But bigger than that, this is the very first time I have seen him do something despite his mother's disapproval, and make a decision just for himself. This next year will be so interesting and so different. I wonder where he's headed. I hope it's someplace really good, and I hope there's something I can do along the way to help him get there.