Geek House

17 May

A typical conversation with my four year old sounds like this:

RJ: Who are the fuzzy creatures on Hoth?
Me: Um…Wampas and Tauntauns.
RJ: Which ones are scary and which ones are friendly?
Me: I guess a Wampa is kind of like a monster and a Tauntaun is like a horse.
RJ: Ok, now who lived on Tatooine?
Me: Um…
RJ: And what happens on the planet Hattray?
Me: What?
RJ: Who is Han’s best friend?
Me: Well, probably Chewie…
RJ: Can I call him Hanny Hanny Hunny, Panny?
Me: Um…
RJ: Who are the fuzzy creatures on Hoth again?

Pay no attention to the losers behind the bad-ass Star Wars shirts!

Pay no attention to the losers behind the bad-ass Star Wars shirts!

I am not a sporty person; I never have been.

When I was younger, my mom put me in gymnastics when I was five. After that, I was done with it. My brother did one year of soccer when he was 7, after which, he was done.

At the prompting of the first good friend I made in high school, together we signed up for trampoline class at age 14. It was fun, but I wasn’t anxious to sign up again. My brother enjoyed track and field and basketball while he was in school, but he didn’t persue sports in any way after he moved away from home.

I spent the entirety of my school career hating and fearing Phys Ed class. Grade 10 was the first year Phys Ed wasn’t compulsory and I was literally jumping for joy when I found out. My earliest memory of a troubled relationship with Gym class is from second grade. I received all A’s and B’s on my report card, except for in Gym class. It was my first D in gym and certainly not my last.

I remember the sinking feeling I felt on the first day of Grade 7 when our teacher informed us that she LOVED physical education and would be striving to provide us with gym class every single day of the week. I was heart broken and terrified. Did she think she was being a nice teacher? Try professional torturer!

I remember the joyful feeling each time our Grade 8 teacher cancelled gym class because the students were behaving poorly. I was outwardly downtrodden but inwardly I was rejoicing.

My favourite part of Grade 9 gym class was the two weeks of sex ed because we were able to sit in desks in a classroom. Even though my odd teacher was saying words like vagina and fallopian tubes and testicles, it was still the best time I’ve ever had in a gym class. I pretended to be embarrassed, but I would have listened to my teacher say “penis” one thousand times just to avoid playing another game of dodge ball.

My dad occasionally watched hockey when I was younger and we often watched Olympic sports as a family, but other than that, we weren’t a sport family. I think my mom tried to encourage us to be more athletic (which is why she had no choice but to pony up the $180.00 for the trampoline class when I was 14) but she didn’t try too hard. She couldn’t sing the praises of sporting championships because she herself did not grow up interested in sports.

As a mother, I find myself in a similar position. If my kids refuse to play team sports and do poorly in Gym class, I can’t get angry or upset because I was the same way. I want to encourage my children to be athletic, but if they refuse, I can’t force them. I know how much I would have loathed my mother if she had forced me into sports.

At this point, I can’t tell if my boys will develop an interest in sports when they are older. Jason and I never talk about team games, we never watch sports on tv, and RJ only heard about hockey after he started attending daycare. My friend Stacy’s boys have been exposed to hockey since they were floating in amniotic fluid. It’s natural that they would show an interest at an early age. Our children, on the other hand, have been exposed to a hundred different kinds of music, super heroes, star wars, and Legos. At Stacy’s house they watch hockey games as a family and spend time practicing in the basement or backyard, not to mention the time they spend at the rink watching Daddy play or beginner’s skating lessons. At our house we play Lego; we play super heroes; we play star wars. Everything else that we play (play dough, crafts, princesses, cars, restaurant, outdoor play) will eventually tie into the Holy Trinity of Eating Dirt Manor: Lego, Super Heroes, Star Wars.

We signed RJ up for gymnastics last summer and we are hoping to do it again this summer. I would also like to sign him up for soccer or Tball if he wants and he’ll have to learn skating and swimming at some point. Maybe one day, my boys will become infatuated with basketball (like Uncle Jesse) or soccer. I will be okay with that. For now, however, we are a geek household and I’m definitely okay with that.

Lego Time!

Lego Time!

Batman's house!

Batman’s house!

Star Wars for Christmas?  Thanks Grandpa Donny!

Star Wars for Christmas? Thanks Grandpa Donny!

This is a happy boy!

This is a happy boy!

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