Then Aidan started indoor tennis team. For two hours a week, he competes in matches against kids who are really, really unbelievably good tennis players. There are eight year olds slicing backhands and killing serves. It's like mini Nadal and mini Federer battling it out on the courts. Aidan is clearly the most beginner player on the team. In three weeks, he has yet to win a match. I keep telling him that for the first year I played, I lost every single match. Every one. And if he is working hard and enjoying himself, then that is all that matters.
Aidan loves it. He is improving. And he looks forward to it every week, losses or not.
Then we got an email from Brennan's teacher. She is recommending Brennan receive extra help in reading. Three times a week, he will be pulled out of class to work with a reading specialist. My heart broke for our B. I cried. I agonized. And then I put on a very happy face, to tell B how lucky he is that he is going to get extra practice in school for reading because it will make him a better reader even faster.
Tonight before bed, Brennan cried when he told me he feels like he is never the best at anything and he knows he isn't the best reader in his class. I quickly blinked back tears, took a deep breath, and told him that we all have things at which we may be the best, but we may not be the best at other things. Everyone has things that they have to work a little harder on in order to get better.
It is heart wrenching to watch my sweet boy struggle. It is unlike anything I have ever felt before in my life. I want to go through it for him, to help make it better for him, to do the work for him. But I can't. It's my children's journey to learn how to work to get better. It isn't mine. I can support them. I can listen to them. I can guide them. But I can't do it for them.
No matter how much I may want to.
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