Last night as Sammy hopped in the car after soccer practice he bumped his ankle against the seat-back and let out an audible, “ouch.”
“What’s up? Did you twist your ankle?”
“No, I got kicked.”
“Kicked in the course of playing soccer, kicked?”
“Nah, kicked cuz some kid was mad at me.”
I’ve been thinking about this all day. The chatter in my brain is driving me crazy.
Me – They’re just kids.
Myself – I know they’re just kids, but where do they get this stuff?
Me – They were joking around.
Myself – Jokes don’t leave bruises, do they?
Me – Don’t get involved.
Myself – It’s my responsibility to get involved.
Me – Don’t overreact! You overreact sometimes.
Myself – When?
At the beginning of practice the coach put forth a challenge: if anyone could beat him in the run, the team wouldn’t have to run any more that practice. Sammy stayed on the coach’s heels the entire time, but didn’t pass him. He was the only kid close enough to even consider beating the young, whippersnapper college-age coach.
His teammates were furious with him! Somehow, they knew he could have passed the coach, but chose not to.
I asked him about it. He admitted that he likes running. He didn’t want to go through the rest of practice without running. He also told me he didn’t want to be prideful. Sure, Sammy could have been the hero-of-the-day! For his own reasons, he chose not to be.
So . . . he got harassed and kicked.
None of the other kids could pass the coach. None of them. And yet, they had the audacity to be mad at my kid. Somehow it became his burden to lift their burden.
You don’t have a right to make a decision that would make life tough for me.
I have a right to your abilities and gifts.
You owe me.
This bothers me at so many levels!