Both children had expressed interest in trying basketball. The YMCA has a great program, instructional but no-stress. A gentle introduction to skills with traveling aloud and no score keeping. Henry, the six year old loved it. He had a natural affinity for the game and was eager to learn the skills he did not have. Nora, the nine year old was painfully reminiscent of me at that age–rather uncoordinated with a lack of natural instinct. Not surprisingly, again like her mother at that age, Nora did not want to continue after her first practice. Now normally, my deal is this. If you ask to sign up and I pony up the money then you need to stick with it. In this case, however, I saw that this was not going to get better but get worse. The girls on the team were classmates but more skilled and secure than Nora. They were also girls who routinely did things together socially and had a bond. I could see that Nora was going become progressively timid and self-conscious and it might prevent her from ever trying a new skill again. So, with some co-parenting bickering with her Dad we ultimately came to the conclusion that this time we would not force the issue and give Nora a stern warning about being very sure she wants to try something and then sticking it out to the end.
This was a rather long preamble to an amusing incident with Henry yesterday. He was moody and looking for a fight and sauntered up to me saying,
"Nora always gets her way. How come I never get my way?"
"What are you referring to Henry?" I asked.
"Nora doesn't have to take basketball but I do. You make me take basketball!" he whined.
"But Henry," I said, "You love basketball."
Henry paused, wrinkled his brow and then said with a smile, "Oh yeah. I do love it!" before sauntering off.
Good ol' space case, Henry.
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