Except that all of their parents are die-hard runners and actually want their kids to LOVE it as much as they do.
If those parents truly have their heart set on that outcome, they might feel let down. Or crushed. Or just confused as the family's self-appointed fitness role models. If you read last year's post about The Boy's first race, then you know from my experience this love for running isn't always in the genes.
But like first foods, we know that kids have to try things several times--or 12--before they really know if they like it.
So we returned to the Twin Cities Marathon Family Events, where our children have all participated in the Toddler Trot. The Boy, now a "seasoned" runner (I mean, you should see how fast he can run *away* from me these days), would put all those "training runs" to practice. He's in preschool now, hanging out with other toddlers, so would feel less anxiety at the race start. Being more mature now that he's two-years-old, he would run to the finish and into his mama's arms with pride.
That's O.K. Really. It is. I mean it's fine that I have to play cars and trains ad nauseam day in, day out, but he can't even pretend to enjoy a running event. And I'll just let it slide that when I'm pushing him in the stroller if I so much stop to walk a step, he is quick to yell, "Faster Mommy!"
Good thing he's cute. And he melts my heart. And I kind of like playing trains anyway.
We will continue to enjoy racing as a family because that's what mom and dad want to do. Maybe, just maybe after the 12th time, he'll find some redeeming qualities and enjoy the sport, too.
In which case, my husband and I will hear in our aging years the stories from our grown kids about how we forced them to run with us. "Do you remember when mom and dad made us run all the time?..."
But we all look happy, don't we? Or, is that just me smiling?