As a parent, I never envisioned myself as a Dream Crusher. Yet, there I stood in the kitchen, listening to my son, Jake, wail that I was “destroying his dream.”
“Destroying your dream?” I questioned, incredulous.
At just 8 years old, Jake had declared his aspiration to play in the NFL. I gently reminded him of the minuscule number of players who actually reach that level, but he countered that this was precisely why he needed to start practicing immediately.
He crumpled onto the floor, tears streaming down his face as he lamented the loss of his dream. I assured him that his father and I would discuss it, but in my mind, I was thinking a resounding NO to football. My heart, however, was caught in a tug-of-war.
This wasn’t the first challenging parenting decision I faced, and certainly not the last. Yet, this particular dilemma felt more monumental than previous ones. I found myself torn because I understood the arguments on both sides of the football debate. Lacking a strong instinct about what to do—something I’ve relied on for other issues—I was at a loss. Experts might offer one perspective, but practical experience and intuition often guide us as parents. Unlike with previous decisions about breastfeeding or screen time, I lacked the knowledge to navigate the complexities of youth football or other risky activities. If I banned football, would that mean I should also prohibit skateboarding, hockey, or even rock climbing?
Honestly, I was uncertain.
I am well aware of the safety concerns associated with football. I’ve read extensively about head injuries and the mental health struggles faced by former players. My husband and I always take these risks seriously.
However, I also had to weigh the repercussions of denying Jake the chance to play. I didn’t want to be the Dream Crusher—who does? But I also didn’t want to instill a fear of risks or stifle his ambitions. I was an overly cautious child, and I didn’t want my kids to shy away from experiences simply due to potential dangers, whether it was biking without hands or taking a job abroad. I wanted to teach them to understand risks, measure them against possible rewards, and make informed choices.
My parenting philosophy centers on controlled risk-taking. For example, when Jake climbed the tall pine tree in our yard, I paused only to snap a picture before reminding him to be cautious. While I dislike labels for parenting styles, I would lean toward the free-range side rather than the helicopter approach.
Still, there are boundaries we set for safety, regardless of our children’s judgment. We don’t let them run into busy streets, play with fire, or bike without helmets (most of the time, anyway).
So, I refrained from giving an immediate “yes” or “no” answer, wanting to engage in a thoughtful conversation about the risks involved. I believed it was equally important for Jake to understand how we reached our decision as it was to determine what that decision was.
In the end, we decided to let him try football, with the understanding that we’d reassess the situation over time. However, just a week before the season started, after taking a hit to the stomach, Jake concluded that football might not be for him.
“Are you certain?” I inquired.
He was adamant. The next day, he quit football and opted for baseball instead.
For the moment, I could remove the label of Dream Crusher from my parenting identity. Yet just last week, he expressed his desire to become a football player when he grows up.
Perhaps I’ll have to pencil in Dream Crusher on my mom credentials after all.
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In summary, every parenting decision comes with its own set of risks and rewards. Navigating these choices can be challenging, but it’s essential to engage in open discussions and encourage informed decision-making.