A Conversation Overheard, A Lesson Learned

Today it managed to get up to a whopping 55 degrees (and sunny!), so this afternoon the kids and I played outside for a good hour before tiring and trooping back inside. We spent most of our time hanging out in the backyard, where the boys entertained themselves with large sticks, rocks, and their plastic playhouse. Charlotte remained strapped to me in her harness, so she and I supervised quietly, watching the boys and enjoying the sun.

I couldn't help but witness the scene playing out in the backyard next to ours. The dad had one of his sons and another little girl (a friend, perhaps) out in their yard playing basketball on the deck using the kid-sized basketball hoop. I would say that the kids are about 8 or 9 years old. (You should know that we don't have a lot of interaction with this family. They tend to stay inside, and one of their sons has autism, which I believe keeps them inside a lot in the first place.) The kids seemed content to just play, and I firmly believe that, if Dad hadn't been there to interfere, a perfectly acceptable form of basketball between two energetic kids would have played out in the yard next door. They seemed like they were having a lot of fun just shooting around with each other, and I for one was just happy to see kids outside again after our long winter.

Unfortunately, Dad was there. And Dad seemed intent, absolutely focused, on making sure that these kids not only played basketball correctly, but he also seemed to think it his one and only calling to get after each child, especially his son, as much as possible for the most inconsequential and oftentimes asinine reasons.

Here, I'll do my best to show you rather than tell you. Let's call the son Elijah and the little girl Lizzy.

Dad: "Okay, now, Elijah, when she makes a shot you need to get the ball after her and rebound."

Elijah and Lizzy horse around with the ball, letting it fall where it may, and don't really do a good job of keeping track of whose turn is whose.

Dad: "NO! Elijah, don't block her! Just get the ball!"

Elijah: (cheerfully) "Okay!"

Elijah proceeds to do something outside the realm of the rules of basketball, apparently, judging from his father's reaction.

Dad: "Elijah! What did I just tell you? I said not to block it. Don't hold your hands up. Just let her shoot and then--"

Lizzy shoots, Elijah lunges for it (as his dad had suggested), and then trips on his own feet and falls.

Dad: "Elijah, don't fall!"

(At this point I am shamelessly staring and eavesdropping. Who gets after their kid for tripping?)

Elijah: "She pushed me."

Dad: "Lizzy, don't push him!"

Lizzy: "I didn't."

Dad: "Well, he is under the impression that you did."

(Why is he arguing with his children? Why is he out here at all? Does he feel like its his fatherly duty to stand out here and boss at playtime? Why doesn't he just go inside and watch TV?)

It went on like this for quite awhile. Never once did he just sit back and let them play normally, as most kids are perfectly capable. Never once did he offer praise or encouragement, instead opting to criticize every stinking move that either child, especially his son, made. He seemed determined to mold these children into miniature NBA players with rock-solid recall of the finer points and rules of the game.

It was horrifying to watch.

I noted one particular time he could have offered praise. Lizzy made a basket (neither child was really taking it seriously, so there were a lot of air balls), and this was Dad's reaction:

Dad: "Lizzy, did you just make a basket?"

Lizzy: "No." (at this point, Lizzy and Elijah have moved onto another part of their "game," so maybe she was confused by his question)

Dad: "Yes you did! Don't just stand there and lie to me! You know that is not acceptable."

?????

Here's another dandy:

Dad: "Elijah, get the ball!"

Elijah gets the ball and then kicks it over to Lizzy.

Dad: "Elijah, what did I tell you about kicking the ball? It's not a football! I swear, if you do that one more time, you'll have to sit on the discipline mat."

I promise this is what he said.

And it seemed like he would never stop. This whole routine went on for a good half an hour. I was so embarrassed for him. He looked and sounded so foolish, so incapable of hearing and seeing himself. What kind of dad uses his precious few moments with his kids to stand outside and criticize their playing habits? In what universe is that helpful or nurturing?

I should be fair and note that this man has always been kind and open to our family. He is studying to become a missionary, and he and his family plan to move abroad soon to participate in missions. Maybe he was just having a bad day. Both kids, especially his son, seemed happy-go-lucky and well-adjusted, so I'm hoping they didn't take any of his remarks or criticism seriously. As I mentioned above, one of their sons (it may be Elijah, I don't know) has autism, and I'm sure that takes a heavy toll on their family. He works hard at a menial job to support their family, so perhaps life is just getting him down.

But this whole episode only served as a glaring reminder to me to never take my time with my children for granted. These fun, playing-for-playing's-sake moments are few and far between, and I would hate to spend those times yelling and undercutting their abilities. I hope I have the sense to shut my mouth, lower my arms, and just let them be kids, whether or not they follow the "rules" or kick the basketball or, heaven forbid, trip on their own feet.

Besides, I know next to nothing about basketball, so I wouldn't be much help forcing the rules upon them.

Also, I am very clumsy and unathletic, so they would probably just laugh at me.