Sports Camp Drop Out

It should have been perfect.

We signed Roan up for Sports Camp with three other boys he knows from preschool.  He'd go swimming three mornings a week, which he loves.  They would also play soccer, basketball, and baseball, and we prepared by buying Roan his very own left handed baseball mitt, kicking around the soccer ball more than usual, and hanging the basketball hoop back up on the back of the door.  We bought him an extra large water bottle, which the parent pamphlet recommended, because Sports Camp takes hydration very seriously.  The pamphlet also informed us not be worried if our child lost weight over the course of Sports Camp, or experienced an increased appetite.  I half expected Roan to end the summer totally ripped, with super defined calf muscles, or maybe even muscled pecs and broader shoulders.

What I didn't expect was for Roan to tell me repeatedly that he hates sports.

"Mommy, I just hate sworts," he would tell me at the breakfast table, when I'd ask him why he didn't want to go to Sports Camp.

Or, "Mommy, it's too long," which was his most consistent complaint about Sports Camp.  And he had a point.  Sports Camp was long.  It lasted from 9am until 4pm.  And, it must be said, that Sports Camp was incredibly cheap.  It was such a great deal, especially for the son of such athletic parents.  Jay and I really wanted to make it work.

"Why Roan?" I would moan, "why do you hate sports camp so much?"  Because the very idea that he wouldn't like a camp that I so carefully chose for him and put so much effort into preparing him for was pretty irritating.  But for Roan, what happened at Sports Camp stayed at Sports Camp - he's never been a kid who reports much about his day.  He kept quiet, and left me repeating, "why, Roan, why?" as if I were the 4-year-old.

He whined and moaned every morning at drop off, but at pick up, we would see him smiling and laughing with his friends, walking around like they owned the place.  Reports from the counselors were mixed - sometimes he had great days, and sometimes he spent the day sitting in the corner, refusing to participate.  I don't think Sports Camp was as bad as Roan made it out to be,  but once my son declares a position on something, he rarely changes his mind.  And the word on Sports Camp was that it was no fun and he hated it.

Admittedly, I could have handled the whole situation better.  I was so frustrated with Roan's refusal to answer any of my questions, or say anything at all about Sports Camp that I finally said, "if you tell me a story about Sports Camp, I won't make you go to Sports Camp."  I made this "offer" for nearly two weeks before he finally started telling me brief stories, many of which I suspect were not true.

One day I really abused the power of Sports Camp.  I had kept Roan home because I just couldn't stomach the power struggle that morning, and he had been bratty all day - starting fights with Ilan, tearing apart his train tracks, flinging toys around.  That afternoon we were gardening in this abandoned lot, and Roan kept trying to get Ilan to climb this rusty fire escape despite me telling him repeatedly that it was off limits.  I said, "Roan Michael if you touch that fire escape one more time I'm taking you straight to Sports Camp!"  He spent the rest of our time there sitting obediently in the corner, scowling at me.

Three weeks in I threw in the towel.  Every morning had gotten worse, to the point where I nearly had to drag him up the hill to catch the bus.  It was official.  Roan was a Sports Camp drop out.

I try not to be too discouraged by this.  Just because he hated Sports Camp doesn't mean he won't like sports.  We will keep trying.  I signed him for soccer this fall on a team with one of his friends.  His friend's dad is coaching, and I'm the assistant coach.  The uniforms are black, his favorite color, and I let him pick his jersey number. He has new shin guards and new shoes.  We'll ride our bikes to his first game on Saturday.

Hopefully, our son will find a "swort" that he likes.