On their own mission
We wanted her to love this. To have fun. We wanted to see the joy in her eyes as she hit that first screaming shot over the net. We wanted to revel in the excitement knowing Rory was destined to be the next Serena Williams.
But here she is… Sitting it out… Not. Feeling. It. At all…
I laughed when Alex sent me this photo because I was the same way. I remember my mom trying to sign me up for karate. I went in and was immediately taken aback by the blatant douchebaggery of that particular karate dojo. The Sensei looked like Master Ken from Enter the Dojo Show (I seriously think he was even wearing the sleeveless gi).
I gripped my mom’s leg like it was a lifesaver in the middle of an ocean of machismo. I wanted nothing to do with that place.
It’s natural. We want our kids to have fun. We want them to LOVE everything we introduce them to (and we — sometimes secretly, sometimes not — want them to be the very best at it).
But it’s my observation and personal experience that they come here with their own mission. And we don’t get a note when they’re born that tells us — what this mission is. All we can do is give them the nurturing and safe space so they can express it as fully as possible. (Without messing them up… Too much.)
Whelp. There it goes. $50 in tennis lessons.
Next up… Ballet…