The Fear of Play
Last Sunday my 11 year old Truman BEGGED, I mean full on graveled to get me to come outside and pogo stick with him. And while I’m typically kinda courageous and way too confident for my skill level at most physical activities, the whole jumping up and down on a little rubber-ended stick, on unforgiving sidewalk had me looking for excuses to bail.
I intended to gather the springy sticks from the garage, walk out to the front, and then pretty much pretend to give it a good TRY… and then encourage and praise Tru so much on his bouncing abilities that he wouldn’t notice that I wasn’t really taking part in the tigger-fest.
But Truman is WAY to darn smart for all that and saw right through my fake-playing facade.
So over about a 20 minute, “good LORD, what am I thinking” period, I mommed-up and forced myself to be scared and take the jump of faith anyway. Truman makes this activity look way easier than is humanly possible for a 43 year old. But after MUCH patient and firm coaching from my boy, I SA-lowly got the hang of it. Sort of.
I will tell you that the initial “get-up” onto a pogo stick is the most terrifying bit. I truly thought this act of crazy would land me in the ER with my first broken something.
Ya see, when it comes to the pogo, you must fully commit. There’s no half way with these things. Do it, or don’t, there is no “kinda”. And finally the keeping the darn thing straight up and down on the decline so that you can fly back up into the air again, takes serious skill…and concentration. But I became determined to prove to my kid, and myself that I could do this silly thing.
After hearing my voluminous cheers for myself as I counted more and more…and more jumps in a row, my man came out to document this apparently EPIC parental achievement.
So, fellow scaredy cats, I am living proof that you can indeed teach an ol’ broad new tricks.
Now go do something super fun that makes you pee your pants a little.
*Big thanks to the folks at RAZOR for giving us these awesome devices last fall…it’s taken me a year to gather the balls to jump aboard.