A Teachable Moment (and a friggin’ Ring Pop)

Kevin Duy
October 5, 2012

Kevin from SportsDadHub

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One thing that kinda sucks about being a parent is that our kids don’t come with customized instruction manuals. We do what we think is right. We do what we think is best for them. But we can never be 100% certain. Sometimes the things we do work. Sometimes they don’t.

This past weekend was a tough one for me. I tried to turn something that Carter (5) did into a teachable moment. I wanted him to learn a lesson about what it means to be a part of a team. I wanted him to understand what commitment is. But in hindsight, I probably should have just let it go.

Here’s what happened. 

We had a busy Saturday ahead of us. Between our three boys we had two ice hockey games, two soccer games and one ice hockey practice. All by 2:00.

Carter (5) led off with an 8:20 hockey game – his first of the season. He played awesome. No goals, but he handled the puck a lot, skated fast and had a blast. Next on the ice was Brayden (6) for a 9:30 game. He did great too, scoring 2 goals and assisting on another.

As soon as Brayden and Carter got off the ice, they changed right into their soccer uniforms. We had to go from the rink to the soccer complex for back-to-back soccer games. Brayden’s team played first. He had a great 4-goal game! (One on a left footer. :>)

The day was rolling along extremely well. Three successful and fun games down. One to go.

While Brayden played in his soccer game, Carter played on the playground with his older brother Gehrig (9). With about 20 minutes left in Brayden’s game, I went over to get Carter so he could start warming up on his field with his team.

That’s when the wheels came off.

I walked over to the playground and said, “Carter. C’mon it’s time to hit the field. Let’s go warm up with your team.”

“No. I want to stay here.” Carter said.

“Nope. Can’t do it. You’ve got a game to play. Let’s go bud. You got to play here during Brayden’s game. Now it’s your turn to play soccer.” I replied.

I took his hand and we began walking toward the field.

“I’m hungry.” Carter said.

“OK. While you’re warming up I’ll run over to the concession stand and get you a granola bar or banana.” I said.

“No. I want a Ring Pop.” he demanded.

Laughing, I said, “No. You’re not getting a Ring Pop. That won’t make you less hungry AND you won’t have enough time to eat it before your game starts.”

He pulled his hand away and stopped walking. Oh boy. This was it. He’s digging in his heels.

“No! I want a Ring Pop!” he demanded again.

“You’re not getting a Ring Pop. You can have a Ring Pop after your game. Let’s go.” I said firmly.

He stood his ground.

Call it stubborn. Call it strong-willed. He’s both of ‘em. But I was not going to be held hostage by his demands for a Ring Pop. We don’t negotiate with terrorists… or a five-year old demanding a Ring Pop. (Click to Tweet that!)

Then he added crying and whining to his negotiation tactic. Maybe he figured that if he made a big scene, then I’d give in and get him his damn Ring Pop. No dice.

I grabbed his hand and tried walking him down toward his field. He literally dug in his heels and tried to stop me by pulling back. Unfortunately for him, we were on the blacktopped portion of the playground and his soccer spikes just slide right along the top of the hard surface.

That’s when he tried the limp legs. When I continued to drag/carry him by his hand he started kicking and screaming. Yeah, it was awesome.

About that time one of his assistant coaches was walking past us and saw what was going on.

Trying to help, he said, “Hey Carter! What’s up buddy? C’mon man. We’ve gotta get down to the field and start warming up. Let’s go dude. We’ve got a game to play!”

It helped for a little while. Carter stopped the kicking and screaming. When he did, I began to lead him by his hand down to the field again.  As we walked with his coach, I could tell that Carter still didn’t want to go. He wasn’t walking freely with me. There was resistance as I held his hand.  I knew that if I let go he would stop in his tracks or turn around and head back up toward the concession stand.

Then I did something incredibly stupid. Because I was feeling like a complete failure as a parent and extremely self-conscious, I started telling Carter’s coach about how stubborn he was.

“This kid man, I’ll tell you what. He can be so stubborn. When he gets his mind set on something, he just doesn’t give in. No matter what the consequence. This whole thing here. It’s about a freaking Ring Pop. He’s ridiculous.” I told him.

For some reason, I felt the need to vindicate myself as a parent. I needed a way to say, in a round about manner, “It’s not me. It’s him. I’d like to see you try to deal with him sometimes.”

Game Over

When we made it down to the field. I thought I was in the clear. Carter would take the field, begin warm ups with his friends and all would be forgotten. Right? Not quite.

“C’mon Carter. Let’s warm up.” his assistant coach said as he walked onto the field where some of Carter’s teammates were doing shooting drills.

Carter grabbed my leg, buried his face into the back of my thigh and seemingly hid. Oh man. Here we go. I tried bending over to talk to him, but that’s not the easiest thing to do when a five-year old is clinging to your leg.

He was crying. I tried to calm him down and get him to join his teammates on the field. After a minute or two a couple other dads who were standing nearby tried to help.

“Carter. What’s wrong bud? Let’s play some soccer.”

“Hey Carter, how many goals are you gonna score today?”

None of it worked. Then he started walking away from the field and back toward the concession stand and playground.

I walked along side, losing more and more patience with every step I took.

“Carter, your team needs you. You guys only have one sub. And Adam’s not even here.” (Adam is the head coach’s son. He and Carter are the team’s main goal scorers.) “They need you to score some goals. If you and Adam don’t play, who’s gonna score?” (I know that in the grand scheme of things, who scores the goals in a 5-year old’s soccer game doesn’t make one bit of difference. But I thought that maybe something like that might get through to Carter.)

He was still an emotional mess. I could tell that what I was saying wasn’t getting through to him. So I thought I’d try a more sympathetic and gentle approach. I walked around in front of him and squatted down. I gently put my hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

“Carter. Why don’t you want to play in your game? You’ve been waiting all week for this game.”

“Cause.” He said.

“Are you embarrassed that coach saw you throwing a fit?” I asked.

He shook his head, yes and began to cry again.

“OK. That’s not a big deal. We’ll just go back down there and act like nothing ever happened. Once you start playing, coach won’t even remember what he saw. Now let’s go have some fun.” I insisted.

“No! I’m not going!” Carter defiantly responded. Then he continued walking away from the field.

By this time, my patience was shot and I wasn’t in the mood to deal with another huge outburst. The outburst I knew I’d get if I tried to drag him back down to the field. Keep in mind that there are five or six fields at this complex and each one was in use. There were people everywhere.

As Carter walked toward the concession stand I said, “If you think you’re getting a Ring Pop, you’re crazy.”

Then he had another mini-meltdown, screaming and crying that he wanted a Ring Pop.

Seriously. This entire thing began because he wanted a friggin’ Ring Pop. I mean, maybe I could understand if he wanted some Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups or Peanut Butter M&M’s. But a Ring Pop?

So once again I had to forcibly grab his hand and walk him away from the concession stand. This time we headed toward the field where Brayden’s game was wrapping up. As we walked, I vented my frustration with Carter by telling him that he wasn’t being a good teammate or friend. I said things like, “You’re letting your team down right now. They’re counting on you to help them play the game today and you’re just leaving them down there. That’s not a very good teammate or friend.”

I knew that there had to be a consequence for turning his back on his team and friends. So I threatened to take away something that all three of my boys treasure. Time playing outside with their neighborhood friends.

My attempt went something like this. “OK Carter. I’ll give you two choices. You can either go down and play in your game, or you can stay  inside the house for the rest of the day. It’s your choice.”

He didn’t say a word. If you don’t answer I’m going to take that as your choice to stay inside all day. It’s going to be a beautiful day. All your friends and your brothers will be out playing, but you’ll be stuck inside because you chose that over playing in your game. This is your last chance.”

I got nothin’. He didn’t budge. So we went home.

As we pulled out of the parking lot I said, “Carter, you’re going to apologize to your entire team at practice on Monday. When we get to practice, I’m going to say, ‘Everybody. Carter has something he’d like to say to you.’ Then you’re going to say, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t help you play in the game.’ You got it?”

He shook his head, yes. Then spent the rest of the day inside.

Practice Night

When I got home from work on Monday night I asked Carter if he was ready to go to practice. He was. After I helped him get his shin guards and socks on, we headed back to the scene of the crying.

As we drove to practice I talked to Carter about what he was going to say to his teammates. We rehearsed. He said it perfectly. Everything was cool…until we got there.

Carter didn’t want to get out of the van. At first he pretended to be asleep. But he cracked after I gave him a quick tickle test. Then he just sat there. He never actually said that he didn’t want to go. He just sat in a silent protest. After about five minutes of trying to convince him to get out of the van I unbuckled him, grabbed his hand and walked him to the edge of the parking lot.

All the fields sit at the bottom of a big hill below the parking lot. As I walked him down the hill, he began to pull back and stiffen his legs. Just like he did on Saturday near the playground. When that didn’t work he turned to the jelly legs tactic again and made his body limp.

I said, “OK Carter. I’m not going to drag you down the hill and across the field to your practice. But I’m going over there to help your team. When you’re ready, you can come to practice.” I walked down the rest of the hill and across one field until I got to his practice field. I turned around to look for him and he was sitting in the middle of the big hill that overlooked the soccer fields.

When I got to his practice field I walked over to the other dads and told them what was going on. Most of them witnessed what happened before the game on Saturday. When I told them that he wouldn’t play in the game because he was embarrassed, they couldn’t believe it.

One dad said, “He’s always so tenacious out there on the field. I’m surprised he let something like that bother him.”

And there Carter sat. All alone on the hill.

Every couple minutes I motioned for him to come down to the field. But he never did. After about ten minutes, I started wondering if he was sitting up there crying. I hoped he wasn’t, but I couldn’t tell since he was so far away.

After about 15 minutes, I started feeling like a failure as a parent. Was this tactic doing any good at all? Feeling self-conscious again I started telling the other dads how stubborn he was.

“How long do you think he’ll sit up there?” one dad asked.

“All night.” I replied.

Then I started thinking. Who’s really being the stubborn one here – Carter or me? Sure he was digging in his heels, but he’s five. Shouldn’t I be above this kind of standoff? But honestly, I didn’t know how else to handle the situation. Dragging him down to the field wouldn’t have done any good. And there was no way I was going to just take him back home. This is where an instruction manual would have come in extremely handy! Even if it was one of those shitty sets of instructions with crappy illustrations and no words.

Just as I was about to throw in the towel and walk back over to Carter, his coach said, “You want me to go up and talk to him? See if I can get him to come down?”

“Sure, if you want to.” I said. “Good luck.” I chuckled.

So his coach walked across another field, halfway up the big hill and sat down next to Carter.

Carter was sitting on the hill with his knees bent up toward his chest. His arms were hugging his legs. When his coach began talking to him, he buried his face into his knees.

I’ll be honest, as badly as I wanted Carter to just come down and practice, part of me didn’t want his coach to be the one to get him to do it.

As Carter’s coach talked with him, I continued talking with another dad. I told him about how I wanted Carter to say he was sorry for leaving his team on Saturday. “I think I blew it when I told him he was going to apologize to his teammates. I don’t know why I thought that would work. I just wanted him to learn from his mistake. Ya know?”

Then the other dad said something that hit me like a soccer ball upside the head.

“Yeah, man. It’s no big deal. Kids pull that kind of crap all the time. None of the other kids on the team even knew what happened. They don’t care.”

He was totally right. I suddenly realized that I blew the entire episode on Saturday out of proportion. Making him stay inside all day was his punishment. It should have ended then. But no. I had to carry it over into practice on Monday. If I would have just dropped it after Saturday, Carter would have been on the field practicing instead of sitting on that hill.

After about five minutes, coach didn’t appear to be making much headway. I decided that I let Carter sit up there long enough. So I headed over to talk with him.

When I got there his coach stood up and said, “Well, whenever you’re ready to have some fun, come on down to the field. We’re going to scrimmage in a few minutes, and I know how much you love that.”

Then he gave me a look like, “Good luck.”

For the next five minutes or so I talked to Carter about what happened on Saturday. We talked about what just happened during the last half hour. We talked about how he felt. We talked about his teammates and what it meant to be part of a team. We talked about how much he likes soccer. Then I told him that I wasn’t going to make him apologize to his team. I said, “If you go down there and have fun at practice, we’ll never say a word about what happened on Saturday. But, you also need to promise me that you’ll never leave your teammates like that again. OK?”

He agreed. He practiced. He had fun.

Turns out, we both experienced a teachable moment.

What about you? Have you experienced something like this with your kids? Let me know in the comments below. 

Thanks for reading,

-Kevin

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