There are two factors that will decide a kid’s stick-to-itiveness, according to Mathieu Bélanger.matimix/Getty Images
When my six-year-old daughter asked to sign up for soccer last spring, the decision felt like a no-brainer. I pictured myself relaxing on the sidelines, soaking up the sun and chatting with other parents while she burned off after-school energy, learned teamwork and – ideally – developed a lifelong love of sport.
Instead, I spent every Tuesday night trying – and failing – to herd her away from the playground and toward the field. When she did make it onto the pitch, she would soon yell, “Is it water break time?” while making a crown out of dandelions.
When she’d unnecessarily run over to me midgame, I could feel the eyes of the other parents on us: We all know that once one kid starts ignoring the coach, it’s a very short ride to full soccer-field anarchy.
I found myself stuck between two competing parenting instincts. On the one hand, I want to raise a kid who follows through on her commitments; on the other hand, I don’t want to force my daughter to do something she doesn’t want to. In the end, I found myself becoming that mom, screaming at her kid to go, run, get after the ball!
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My friends’ kids are all – seemingly – effortlessly good at everything. The videos on social media play like a miniature Olympics. These little people are rock climbing, skating, skiing, hitting a ball farther than I can. Why do I take these snapshots so personally, and why does it feel like only my kid wants to quit?
There are two factors that will decide a kid’s stick-to-itiveness, according to Mathieu Bélanger, a professor in the department of family and emergency medicine at the University of Sherbrooke, and co-director of the IMPACTS Lab, which studies the connections between physical activity and long-term health. “You must have enjoyment – it has to be fun for them, foremost. And then you’ve got to have competency – they must feel like they’re good at this, to some extent.”
In research that followed nearly 1,000 children in New Brunswick for more than a decade, Bélanger and his colleagues found, just as importantly, that diversity of physical activity – not early specialization – is key. “We have a role as parents to expose our kids to a variety of different activities, and eventually they’ll find something that they like,” he says.
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That idea sounds simple in theory: Let kids try a range of activities, expose them to different sporting environments, see what sticks. In practice, it’s exhausting.
This past winter, when I heard other parents describe their schedules, it sounded like a logistical marathon as they balanced skating, ski lessons and hockey leagues. My head spins just thinking about adding more to our calendar. And yet, there’s always that nagging thought: What if I have a future Tessa Virtue at home and never give her the chance on the ice?
Belanger says that kind of fear can lead parents to feel unnecessary pressure. When children specialize too early – becoming “the hockey kid” or “the gymnastics kid” – they risk burning out or dropping out entirely if something goes wrong. Without other activities to fall back on, they are less likely to stay active later in life, he says.
It’s a scene Toronto mom of three Kathlyn Mokriy knows well. Her middle child developed a deep love and real skill in basketball during the COVID-19 years at home, with the net at the end of her driveway as his only source of physical activity. Years later, he was in a competitive league, until a coach’s harsh performance demands drained all the joy out of it
“Why would you want to go if you’re going to get yelled at for two hours?” she said. Her son gave up on organized basketball altogether, and has struggled to find passion in anything else. Mokriy says she learned the best approach is rooted in softness: “Our kids are dealing with so much, and their brains and their hormones are changing all the time. They need calm from us, not intensity to perform.”
I had visions of myself, hollering from a lawn chair at my daughter, and I cringed. Of course, forcing enthusiasm rarely creates it. And of course, resilience doesn’t come from sticking with one thing no matter what, but from learning how to try, step away and try something else.
Earlier this spring, I had already enrolled my kid in soccer again in hopes this year would be different. But when I noticed her eyes lighting up as our next-door neighbour came home from tennis, a racket in hand that matched her skirt, I had my answer. There’s a nearby court that offers weekly lessons for youngsters, so I decided to let go of soccer – and my enrolment fee – and embrace the switch. Variety, after all, is the point.
The fashion choices – which shorts go best with which T-shirt – are probably still high on the list of reasons she wants to go. But once she’s on the court, she’s consistently making contact with the ball, listening intently to instruction, laughing with the other girls and genuinely sad when the hour-long lesson ends.
As an added bonus, tennis takes place inside a literal cage, so there’s no herding required.
If my daughter wants to give up on tennis – which she probably will, eventually – I will let her. I’ll encourage the pivot, letting go of the idea of a tenacious athlete who won’t quit – in favour of a little girl who just wants to play.
