>Parents Behaving Badly

I have come to the stunning conclusion that, for now anyway, three-year-old Punky is not aspiring to be the next Mia Hamm.

This is a tough thing to say for a mom who’s spent the last six years cheering for her two stepdaughters on the same soccer fields as the one the preschoolers now roam. But the truth of the matter is that Punky has spent her last three games either hugging her teammates on the field, running aimlessly about with a blatant disregard for the ball, or, more often, sitting in my lap on the sidelines. When I asked her today why she didn’t want to play anymore after the first ten minutes of the game, she said simply, “Because it’s not my favorite thing to do.” And how could I argue with that?

I know that how I respond to Punky’s ambivalence toward soccer is a turning point for me as a mother. Will I be able to stand back and let her make up her own mind, or will I hover and meddle and try to project my own desires onto her? Today, I wheeled Bruiser back and forth in his stroller along the sidelines during Punky’s game, watching and listening to the other parents. Several dads coached their three-year-old daughters from where they stood, talking to them as if they were adults, fully capable of understanding their complicated instructions. A few moms yelled at their daughters to “Wake up!” and “Show some energy!” Meanwhile, some of the other preschoolers who refused to play were subjected to hushed conferences with their mothers and fathers, who were alternately stern and pleading in their efforts to get their kids back on the field.

One little girl, like Punky, played in the game for a few minutes and then quietly went back to her mother’s lap, where she stayed. Her parents took turns holding their daughter with broad smiles on their faces, clapping whenever their team scored and eagerly cheering on the other players. That’s how I wanted to be. I went back to Punky, who was intent on digging a hole in some dirt on the sidelines.

“Punky,” I said, taking her in my arms, “I’m so proud of you for coming out here today. You are a great soccer player!” She grinned delightedly. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

And that’s how it’s going to be from now on. There will be no more bribes of baking a strawberry cake if she’ll go out on the field. There will be no repeated questioning about why she does or doesn’t want to participate in the game. Maybe she’ll develop a love for soccer over the next ten weeks. Maybe she won’t. I’m simply creating an opportunity for her to decide on her own.

Preschool soccer is a funny thing, I decided today. Some of the girls are ready for the league. Most of their parents aren’t.

This post originally appeared on Parents.com.