Dylan plays soccer on Saturday mornings. He really enjoys it, but he can be kind of timid on the field. That, and sometimes he looks like he’s dreaming up a plot for a sci-fi novel instead of thinking about defense. Mike and I have figured out that if we can get him in the right state of mind, we can get him to be less afraid of going after the ball.
We came up with the concept of being mad, because when Dylan’s mad, he’s ferocious. Unstoppable. Crazy. Dangerous. Fierce. (Seriously. Don’t piss this kid off.) It’s just like he should be on the soccer field.
On Saturday morning, I tried to pump him up for his game. I asked him, “Are you ready to play some mad soccer?”
He said, “Yeah!”
I said, “Are you ready to kick some butt?!”
He said, “Yeah!”
I said, “Are you ready to be MAD?!”
He said, “I’m going to make the other team DIE!!!”
Oh.
Oh, dear.
I blame this death threat unfortunate outburst on violence in the media, video games, and my husband who let’s him watch age-inappropriate super hero movies.
For the record, I told him it wasn’t nice to wish death upon others.
The Runaway Mama by Jen Gregory 