This post could be about me, but it's not. It's about my 3-1/2 year old son.
Today I picked him up from daycare and mentioned that tonight was BASKETBALL CLASS! Instead of the girlish scream of delight and the Jack Russell terrier-like jumping up and down, I got a downcast look and a frown.
"I don't wanna go to Basketball class," says Goofy Junior.
"Why not?" I inquire.
"I'm not good at it," he whines.
"WHAT?!?!?," I say. I am seriously shocked by this answer. Yes, he's not as good as SOME of the boys, but he's up there, considering he's a full six months younger than most of them.
I get down on his level, all serious and Mommy-like.
"Alex, I understand if you don't want to go, but that is WHY we go to class...to get better at things. And I think you are very good at basketball!" I can't believe that he has seriously thought about this and decided that he is not good and doesn't want to be embarrased in front of others. Jeez! He's only 3-1/2! Guess that's not too young for self-doubt, obviously.
Another downcast look and frown. "I'm bad...." he says.
"You are not bad at basketball. You are good at basketball. But..." (thinking now of how I don't want to be THAT Obsessive Sports Parent) "if you don't want to go this week, we don't have to go. It's your class and it's your choice to go."
This appears to go over pretty well with him. He seems to relax.
"If you don't go to Basketball class, what will we do instead tonight?" I ask.
"Eat candy!" he exclaims.