Mom Stories: The Great Pretender
I sat at the dinner table the other night, looking at my wonderful husband and my two smiling, chatty boys, and I realized something very important: I didn't care at all about what anyone at that table was talking about.
Truly. I could not care less.
But I smiled and nodded as I slowly shut down and mentally walked away.
You see, my older guy has always been a very focused kid. When he went through his Thomas the Tank Engine phase, he was all in. He awoke bright and early each day and spent the majority of his time following me around the house repeating the question, "Play trains mom? Play trains mom?"
Then he loved classical music. He immersed himself in it and insisted he was going to grow up to play the celesta. (No, I had never heard of it, either.) Then it was Legos. Then, Harry Potter. When he likes something, he really likes something.
I found parts to enjoy about each of these stages. We shared his passions, and I was a very willing participant. To be honest, I did get a bit sick of Thomas trains, but I always found some way to make it interesting for myself. I never had to fake it, because I was having fun right along with him.
But now, it's different. Now, it's football.
He could watch games by himself all weekend. He wants to look up stats on the Internet constantly. He gets books from the library and follows both NFL and college games.
Mostly, though, he wants to talk about it. He wants to talk to me about the players and what teams are playing each other next and who do I think will win and do I really think the Seahawks will make it to the Superbowl and can we go and how much do tickets cost and on and on and on.