One of Riley’s teachers called to tell me Ri’s been socializing excessively and being disruptive in class. His Dad and I have decided that on a week-to-week basis, he will lose soccer if we’ve heard from teachers that there has been a behavior issue.
I didn’t get upset when I heard from the teacher; there wasn’t any point in it. I didn’t remind Riley of what he’s lost, because I know he’s kicking himself for it already, and I feel bad for him.
“Mom, did I lose soccer on Saturday?”
“I’m sorry baby, you did. You knew.”
“I know. I’m mad at myself.”
Ri was quiet for a bit before he spoke again.
“Mom? Is there anything we could trade? Like trade something for soccer?”
“Like what? What do you mean?”
“Like, switch punishments so I can play on Saturday.”
“I don’t know, Ri. You knew you’d lose soccer if I got a call. I’m sorry sweetie.”
“Maybe you could beat me?”
“Yeah, just beat me now, and then I get soccer back?”
“Beat you. You’re asking me to beat you?”
“You always say you’re going to. Maybe you should. Just beat me.”
“Beat you? That wouldn’t be any punishment at all. You’d probably like it.”
“Yeah. I might. That sucks. So you won’t beat me?”
“No. I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
Oh, he’s killing me. I am this close to caving on soccer.