As my son came off the ice yesterday following his hockey game, he looked at Mark and me, shrugged up one shoulder a bit and gave a, “meh, what are you gonna do?” expression.
They’d lost another game - they've had plenty of experience losing this season, which has been hard on the team’s morale.
Except for my child’s.
He still comes off the ice with a smile.
“It would be nice if he was just a little more competitive,” he’ll say.
I love my child. I do. My love for him far surpasses the hatred he has for writing. And he has a deep, dark hatred for writing.
Bizarre irony, don't you think, considering his mother has a desperate, twisted love for writing?
He's in second grade, now. In kindergarten, I'd get calls from the teacher saying my son gets distracted during writing practice, and doesn't get his work done. We chalked it up to his age.
And the fact that he's a boy. The maturity thing, you know: boys mature slower than girls, blahblahblah.
Kristan (Braziel) LeBaron is an author, writer, marketing professional, and the voice of the blog, Bring Mommy A Martini. Mom to two hilarious boys: one in college and the other in middle school, she writes “real mom” stories on life with anxiety & depression, and choosing happiness as a daily practice. She lives outside of Austin with her two sons and two lavishly kept dogs.
