A Whole Lotta Talk

And not much action.

I've said this before and know I'll say it again. Max was pretty much born talking. Literally, came out of the womb and before I knew it he was speaking. By 10 weeks he had very clearly learned a few sounds and would babble them non-stop (oohs & ahhs). Within weeks after that he had figured out, as if he were channeling the German in him, how to say really harsh, abrupt sounds ("kaa," kind of like a chortle). Joe and I have wondered on various occasions whether or not he might have a photographic memory (I'm not joking about this. I've asked the Pediatrician about this. And I hope it's not true - even though it's been quite helpful at times, like when at 2 years old Max would remind me what our neighbor's first names were when I couldn't remember).

But I digress. The point is, Max is a very good talker - quite accomplished for an almost 4 year old. He "sold" me and Joe on signing him up for soccer again this winter. Even though last winter, every Saturday for six Saturdays, we had to bribe him to get out on the soccer field and attempt to "play" soccer for a half hour.

A couple months ago Max was asking if he could play soccer again this year. We said he could and then casually brought up how he'd need to play - on the field with the other kids and coach - if we sign him up. Max insisted that, yes, he'd like that.

We waited until the last day possible to register him this year, trying to figure out if he had matured into an organized sports kind of kid during the past 12 months. This past Saturday morning it was pretty clear to us that the answer was no, he hadn't.

While getting him into his yellow team gear, the first thing out of his mouth was "Can we go to Dim Sum after soccer?" (You see, dim sum happened to be his favorite bribe from last year's soccer season). Joe and I gave each other the look knowing that we had 30 very long minutes ahead of us at his 1st soccer practice.

We casually cajoled, we enthusiastically supported, we ardently attempted to trick Max into playing a little soccer that morning. We did not bribe. We did not succeed.

Max had every excuse in the book for why he couldn't play: his stomach hurt, he didn't like how there were so many kids and people there, he was too tired, it was too hard of work, he was too hungry.

Joe and I are still finessing this "teaching moment" with Max. While we wish Max would follow through with his request to play soccer, we both had a feeling that this sport wasn't exactly the best fit for him at this time. After talking with some other parents in Max's school, this type of behavior seems pretty typical. We're trying to do a better job deciphering when it's just a whole lotta talk vs. some action with him for future interests.