It had been a very long and hot Saturday of kids’ sports, backyard chores and running around. We had one more hurdle to jump before a nice, relaxed dinner (and a good beer) at our favorite family friendly restaurant.
Unfortunately, that hurdle was Parker (our 5-year-old’s) T-ball practice at 4 PM. As I said, it had been a long day for me, but as my wife reminded me later, it had also been a long day for him. In fact, right before we left for T-ball, I’d collected him and Tyler (our 7-year-old) from the neighbor’s backyard, where they’d been playing in the aforementioned heat.
But all was fine and dandy until about halfway through practice. As the kids advanced to their next station (one for running bases, one for throwing, one for hitting, etc), Parker sat down and declared he couldn’t go on.
“I’m tired,” he kept intoning.
I started to get angry. As some background, I have a strong belief in the power of sports to help a child turn out the right way. I’m not talking about being great at sports or pushing your kid to do things he hates, but I am talking about the social, emotional and physical benefits of participating. To me, it’s not optional — you have to pick something athletic and do your best.
So when my boy decided to hang it up for the day in the midst of 40 other kids still plugging away, I was mad. And when I say mad, I mean livid out of all proportion to what was going on. I tried at first to be calm and encourage him to get back to business, but to no avail. My wife also tried, but didn’t get much further. I should have just made him follow his team around to the stations and sit in the grass to watch, but I didn’t. I lost it.
And by losing it, I mean the whole, “We’re outta here” thing. I mean picking the (now hysterically crying) kid up and carrying him off the field, all the while listing the litany of his punishments (pretty much anything I could think of), and telling him that if he couldn’t manage to just do this for me, I wasn’t going to do anything for him … ever … again.
As this transpired, my wife looked on with mortification, but I was way too far gone — or down the rabbit hole, as I’ll explain — to care. My wrath knew no bounds.
Now back to the rabbit hole — this is the best way I can think of to describe a spiraling whirlwind of negative emotion and behavior that can carry one away. It is a trip down, down, down to a very ugly place where you wouldn’t like to see yourself in any reflection. It is a place all of us have been (especially parents), and a journey we’d love to forget ever took place.
Fast forward a few days to Parker’s pre-school graduation. I was able to stay for about an hour before I had to go to work, but my wife remained with her father to watch the rest of the show and then take Parker out to lunch. Right before I was about to start our Webinar (at 11:07 exactly), I got a call from my wife. She was hysterically crying.
“He won’t even take one picture with me. I just wanted one picture and he won’t do it. I’m really upset. I’m not taking him to lunch and I’m not taking him to the pool. Why should I do anything nice for him when he won’t do this one thing for me?” she said, sounding eerily familiar.
I did my best to calm her down, saying things like, ‘I understand,’ and suggesting she might try again later, but it sure sounded to me like she was going down the rabbit hole I had so recently visited.
But then, miraculously, at 11:25 (exactly), I received the following picture. I was totally amazed. How had she done it? My trip down the hole had lasted hours, and I was upset for at least another day with how I handled the situation. She’s been down the hole for 18 minutes and had come up looking cheerier than ever. I’d let the incident ruin the night (I cancelled that dinner I was looking forward to), but she went on to have a great day with our son.
And truth be told, I never really got a good answer when I asked her. But I can tell you this. The ability to grab a branch or get a toe hold — or however you want to put it — and stop your slide down the rabbit hold is a great mark of leadership. When things are going south, great leaders are the ones who can press pause, let things calm down, and even detach themselves from the situation if necessary. They know when they’re becoming part of the problem and can hand things off, even temporarily, to someone with a cooler head. They stop the slide and reverse the spiral, moving things in a positive direction.
Despite my wife’s (and Parker’s) attempt to ban me from T-ball practice, I’m going. But I can tell you this: if he starts to shut down, I’ll plan to step back and let her handle the situation, because I don’t want to go back down the rabbit hole … ever … again.
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