Our oldest son, the Sports Fanatic, is a very big football fan. I have blogged often about his love for football in the past, and to this day football reigns king. He lives for football season, and loves nothing more than wearing that uniform and being with his team.
Last year, since we were on the field just about every night anyway with our Sports Fanatic, we asked LLG (who was 5) if he wanted to play football.
He wasn't so sure.
We waited it out, and he eventually asked to join tackle football. I remember being excited, and nudging him to do it, but at the same time being afraid.
He was little. He was very little. His nature was still very much that of a little boy, and I worried about him on that field. I worried he would hate the pads and the "get tough or get out" mentality of football. But like just about everything else in my life, I waffled between this worry and the excitement of having two boys playing football.
To make a long story short, LLG lasted only five days on that field. He didn't understand the game, and he didn't have that "hit somebody!" mentality. After one tough hit at practice he cried to me, "They didn't even say they were sorry!"
My heart was broken for him. I knew I pushed him into something he wasn't ready for. I felt responsible, and because of it I let him quit.
I was comfortable with the idea he may never want to play football. Maybe it just wasn't for him.
Fast forward nine months. He is a year older, seven pounds heavier and two inches taller. He played basketball this past winter and is in the middle of his flag football season. A few weeks ago we mentioned tackle football, only because sign ups were around the corner.
He asked to play.
Remembering the nightmare that was last August, I said no. I told him to wait another year. The memories of his tears and watching him struggle through practice were too fresh in my mind. LLG agreed.
A week later, we asked him again how he felt. He told us he wanted to play THIS year.
We told him to wait a few more weeks to see how he felt. We went over the dedication, the hard work, and the heavy equipment. He remembered it all. And he still asked to play.
Today was the last sign up at the local football fields. We were already there for the flag games, and sign ups were until 11am. Hubby looked at me and asked what we were going to do about LLG. I told him to ask LLG one more time, and as I did LLG looked at us and told us to stop asking.
Guess who got in line at 10:50am.
I guess this kid is ready for some football. And this Mama is holding her breath, praying he is now ready to "Hit Somebody!". If his flag performances are any indication, he is going to be just fine.
Sometimes they just need to grow; to experience a little more of what this world has to offer. Sometimes, they just need TIME.
Here's to more chaos come August. Happy Monday!
Last year, since we were on the field just about every night anyway with our Sports Fanatic, we asked LLG (who was 5) if he wanted to play football.
He wasn't so sure.
We waited it out, and he eventually asked to join tackle football. I remember being excited, and nudging him to do it, but at the same time being afraid.
He was little. He was very little. His nature was still very much that of a little boy, and I worried about him on that field. I worried he would hate the pads and the "get tough or get out" mentality of football. But like just about everything else in my life, I waffled between this worry and the excitement of having two boys playing football.
To make a long story short, LLG lasted only five days on that field. He didn't understand the game, and he didn't have that "hit somebody!" mentality. After one tough hit at practice he cried to me, "They didn't even say they were sorry!"
My heart was broken for him. I knew I pushed him into something he wasn't ready for. I felt responsible, and because of it I let him quit.
I was comfortable with the idea he may never want to play football. Maybe it just wasn't for him.
Fast forward nine months. He is a year older, seven pounds heavier and two inches taller. He played basketball this past winter and is in the middle of his flag football season. A few weeks ago we mentioned tackle football, only because sign ups were around the corner.
He asked to play.
Remembering the nightmare that was last August, I said no. I told him to wait another year. The memories of his tears and watching him struggle through practice were too fresh in my mind. LLG agreed.
A week later, we asked him again how he felt. He told us he wanted to play THIS year.
We told him to wait a few more weeks to see how he felt. We went over the dedication, the hard work, and the heavy equipment. He remembered it all. And he still asked to play.
Today was the last sign up at the local football fields. We were already there for the flag games, and sign ups were until 11am. Hubby looked at me and asked what we were going to do about LLG. I told him to ask LLG one more time, and as I did LLG looked at us and told us to stop asking.
Guess who got in line at 10:50am.
Sometimes they just need to grow; to experience a little more of what this world has to offer. Sometimes, they just need TIME.
Here's to more chaos come August. Happy Monday!
Last year, since we were on the field just about every night anyway with our Sports Fanatic, we asked LLG (who was 5) if he wanted to play football.
He wasn't so sure.
We waited it out, and he eventually asked to join tackle football. I remember being excited, and nudging him to do it, but at the same time being afraid.
He was little. He was very little. His nature was still very much that of a little boy, and I worried about him on that field. I worried he would hate the pads and the "get tough or get out" mentality of football. But like just about everything else in my life, I waffled between this worry and the excitement of having two boys playing football.
To make a long story short, LLG lasted only five days on that field. He didn't understand the game, and he didn't have that "hit somebody!" mentality. After one tough hit at practice he cried to me, "They didn't even say they were sorry!"
My heart was broken for him. I knew I pushed him into something he wasn't ready for. I felt responsible, and because of it I let him quit.
I was comfortable with the idea he may never want to play football. Maybe it just wasn't for him.
Fast forward nine months. He is a year older, seven pounds heavier and two inches taller. He played basketball this past winter and is in the middle of his flag football season. A few weeks ago we mentioned tackle football, only because sign ups were around the corner.
He asked to play.
Remembering the nightmare that was last August, I said no. I told him to wait another year. The memories of his tears and watching him struggle through practice were too fresh in my mind. LLG agreed.
A week later, we asked him again how he felt. He told us he wanted to play THIS year.
We told him to wait a few more weeks to see how he felt. We went over the dedication, the hard work, and the heavy equipment. He remembered it all. And he still asked to play.
Today was the last sign up at the local football fields. We were already there for the flag games, and sign ups were until 11am. Hubby looked at me and asked what we were going to do about LLG. I told him to ask LLG one more time, and as I did LLG looked at us and told us to stop asking.
Guess who got in line at 10:50am.
Sometimes they just need to grow; to experience a little more of what this world has to offer. Sometimes, they just need TIME.
Here's to more chaos come August. Happy Monday!
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