Time for Fall Ball! (Or Maybe Gymnastics)
The Key to Connecting When Everybody is Different (Hint: Ever tried the Middle Splits?)
The other night I tossed a ball to our two-year-old - and he caught it! Actually, he caught it and threw it back. With real accuracy! And we kept at it for a bit, back-and-forth.
“Toss it to me, too!” I heard my six-year-old calling as he ran from across the room to join in.
I tossed and…
well…
…catching isn’t his thing. In the moment, I think he was more wanting to be sure that both brothers got dad time.
The truth is, tossing has rarely been his thing. I’ve tossed the ball to him a number of times in his six years, and sometimes he’ll play along, but mostly he’ll turn his shoulder sideways to avoid the ball. Or he’ll put his hands out to block it. Sometimes he just runs away.
For awhile, these reactions did not compute for me. I grew up tossing with my dad from the earliest days.
Watching a football game in the living room? A ball was tossing between couches the whole time.
At the pool? Two straight hours of heroic, diving catches into the water.
Easter brunch? Better believe I am tugging on dad to get up from the table and head out for another round of tossing the baseball.
Tossing was life. Tossing was love. Tossing with dad is why the final scene in Field of Dreams (above) leaves me in a puddle of tears every time.
It was strange realizing that my oldest son showed so very little interest in tossing.
Then my other son comes along, and it’s a bit scary just how intuitive the whole thing is for him. You can’t escape your crib (yet), but it’s quite possible you should be the starting 1st baseman for the t-ball team practicing just down the street.
What every parent quickly learns is a basic fact of life that still never fails to amaze us: every child is different.
I have a six year old who is not much for tossing but goodness me, he will build some of the finest, most detail-attentive renditions of New York City with his magnetic tiles, assorted plastic figurines, and dollhouse furniture.
(Mid-construction high-density housing going up in the heart of Toy District)
He’ll also proudly show off his full, middle splits without cringing in the least. He loves for nothing better than for me to watch him live into all of his gymnastics joy - or sometimes even give it a go next to him (my hamstrings are a profound disappointment to him every time).
I have a two year old who is a mini-me.
Toss. Toss. Toss.
More. More. More.
One needs me to sit with him and his magnetic tiles and middle splits.
One needs me to toss.
If I throw the ball at the six-year-old, it’s probably just dropping at his feet.
If I do magnetic tiles with the two year old, well, he’s two. He’s up for most anything for a bit. Unless we’re tossing. Then we can keep going indefinitely.
And is it any different in every facet of life?
All of us have default ways of serving, inspiring, and connecting with…
our team,
our family,
our children,
our spouse,
our friends,
our new context/neighborhood/workplace/group.
Maybe we toss them…
encouraging notes or
thoughtful servings of food or
fun gifts or
verbal affirmations or
the famous trick/joke/event that “never fails!”…
And some of those folks gladly catch that ball. Thank you for the note/food/gift/affirmation/event! They’ll probably even toss the ball back in a similar way because tossing is a great thing for them.
Other folks seem rather unimpressed by the ball we just threw. We kinda feel like they just let it drop at their feet.
C’mon! I just tossed up a great one for you! Don’t you know…
How much that cost!?
What that took to bring together!?
How well that worked with the last child/neighborhood/workplace/group?!
But maybe they don’t need a toss. They need time spent sitting alongside them while they do their creative thing that has absolutely no spheres involved. Or, maybe they prefer a good, long stretch. Which will, of course, prove a stretch for us should we drop the ball and try.
—
What’s your go-to way of serving, supporting, and connecting? Which people seem to really appreciate that?
Great! Those are your fellow tossers.
And then which folks confuse you? They shrug, turn, or walk away when the (surely loving, thoughtful, and amazing!) toss goes forth?
And what if that is not a rejection of you, but rather an invitation to try the splits? Or, at the very least, sit down and appreciate their creativity on their terms? Which itself may be a significant stretch.
Nobody said love is easy.
Nobody said it was predictable either.
What they did say is that it’s always worth it.
Keep tossing. And also stretching. Because each person is different.
Plus, given how calcified things can get these days, would it be so bad if we were all a little more flexible?
You touched my soul and memories. The video clip was perfect, lots of joyful tears. Keep on writing!
Bobby,
I just loved this. We have 4 children and 6
grandkids and they are all different.
Isn’t it fun finding out more about them and learning from them as they mature.
Bless you and your family. 💕