My younger children are…
Not popular. Not only are they not popular, but nowhere in their genetic makeup are the seeds of being popular. Squish doesn’t know how to play mean girls, and she had no desire for makeup– as she’ll tell you to your face, she is only nine years old. She would, however, like to level up in her reading, insists on being in GATE, needs to be in choir, and would dearly love to make every dance class if it were not for mom making her catch up on homework or those pesky Kings games.
Zoomboy is pretty sure he is popular because he knows everything about Star Wars, Harry Potter, Diary of a Wimpy Kid, How It’s Made, Myths of Science, Mythbusters, and World’s Funniest Animals. How could you not be popular with that roster– and the chess club to boot!
So, no. I have not geared my brain-thirsty children for popularity 101.
And I”m not excited about wrestling, either.
Big T wrestled when I was pregnant with Squish. He was easily the biggest kid in six schools–and he would step up to the matt, and those kids would crap their pants, thinking he was going to destroy them.
The longest he ever lasted before his pin was 10 seconds.
So, when Zoomboy told me they’d started a wrestling unit in the same class that was responsible for his concussion, I was not particularly excited.
“Yeah! And they teach us how to hold and how to take someone down and how to pin–“
“So you know all that?”
“Yeah! And today I went up against a kid who was really good and I lasted for a long time before he pinned me!”
Me, somewhat surprised. “Good… that’s great. Good for you!”
“And then I went up against another kid who wasn’t supposed to be that good and he totally took me out.”
“He took me down–I saw stars, I couldn’t breathe– I think I even cried.”
Me–flailing, angry, upset, because… my baby! “You… you cried! In PE?”
“Yeah, my head hurt and everything.”
Oh God. “Does it still hurt?”
“Oh no– it stopped before my next class. But it was scary.”
Yes, yes it was scary. “I think maybe you shouldn’t wrestle anymore.”
And here’s where ZoomBoy totally surprised me. “But I love wrestling!”
“But that big boy made you cry!” And yes, I am still flailing.
“But he said he was sorry! And he won’t do it again! I love wrestling. I’m sort of good at it.”
“Oh. Okay.” And now my inner flailing is coming from a totally different place. “Wrestling, huh?”
“Yeah– it looks like it’s all about strength but it’s really about strategy and intelligence–that’s what the coaches say. I think I can do the intelligent part.”
Oh God. It hits me. “You’ll be great, honey!”
I’ve given birth to and raised a boy. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but there you go. Mazeltov, it’s a ZoomBoy. He likes science, literature, math, chess club, and wrestling.
I have no idea how that happened.