We have a hockey rule in our house: if you don't go to practice, you don't play in the next game. This rule was set up as a preemptive measure so that I wouldn't end up with a mite hockey player who whined about practice but still wanted to play in actual games. This rule had zero impact in our lives. The Kid loves practice...he loves any ice time. Then this weekend happened.
On Friday night, the Kid was watching the Caps game on TV. He had an early morning practice on Saturday, so I wanted him to get to bed at a reasonable time to ensure he was well-rested for practice. (Mum-mum strategery.) He wanted to stay up late and watch the entire Caps game.
"Oh honey," I said in my best 'worried mom' voice. "Don't you think you need to get plenty of rest the night before hockey practice?"
He tried to convince me he'd be fine. He probably would be for practice, but later in the day fatigue would catch up with him and he'd be grouchy. Or maybe I was projecting how I would feel onto him. I don't know. Regardless, I gave him a choice: stay up late and not go to practice (which would also mean not playing in his game) or go to bed on time and play hockey all weekend. I thought for sure he'd choose playing over watching hockey.
Instead, the Kid did some serious thinking. Here was a seven year-old battling with instant gratification versus long-term satisfaction. He chose instant gratification. Oh, this could be very bad...for his parents.
"I need to take a break from hockey this weekend. I'm going to stay up and watch the Caps," he declared, trying to convince himself more than me.
Two hours later he was getting ready for bed and he asked, "If I get up early enough tomorrow, can I go to hockey practice?"
Yeah, didn't see that coming. (Note: Those words are dripping in sarcasm.)
The Kid didn't play any hockey this weekend. And he's decided the next time he has the choice between watching hockey and playing hockey, he's going to play hockey.
I thought so.
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