Recently we were in a car on our way to a restaurant to meet relatives. Our sons, Joe and John, were talking in the back seat, and Joe said to us, “All my friends think it’s pretty funny that you made me take figure skating lessons when I was little.” His high school friends were especially delighted at the thought of a 275 lb. middle linebacker doing a triple toe loop!

Lenny and I looked at each other. “Figure skating? We took you to hockey lessons, not figure skating!”

But Joe remembers learning to figure skate.

“I can prove it,” I said, “I have pictures of you in a helmet with hockey skates, all bruised up!” I was beginning to get my argument going, and Lenny put his hand on my arm to keep my anger from ramping up. Fortunately we arrived at the restaurant in time to divert the conversation, but it really made me wonder. How is it that he thought we took him to learn to figure skate?

Joe was an extremely agile kid from the first time he put both feet on the ground. He had broad shoulders, even as a toddler, and constantly vaulted out of his crib when he was barely year old. He wasn’t being difficult, it was just a challenge, and he met it.

When he was school age, we thought perhaps gymnastics would be a good sport to keep him physically challenged (read that “tired out”). But he was the only boy among many yukky girls. His interest in gymnastics was long gone before his interest in girls kicked in.

How about soccer? “Too much running!” Basketball? It just didn’t grab him. Baseball? Naw, too boring, not enough action.

So we thought of hockey. His size and strength were appropriate. He liked the fast pace. At the rink, there was a lot going on. There were figure skaters receiving individual coaching. And his class was learning to skate for hockey. But after three weeks, he was done, and when Joe is done, there’s no moving him.

Just about this time, his brother decided to play football. From the minute he saw the helmet and pads, Joe was smitten. He played football every year for the next 10 years, and escaped with joints and bones intact.

I’ve noticed that parents of Olympic athletes made tremendous sacrifices as their child excelled at a sport. I heard a parent of an Olympian say that they had to give their child to the country.

I just know that most of us drag our kids around from sport to sport hoping that they will find something that will engage them.

Turns out Joe didn’t stay with skating or even football. What he cherishes is reading. It just took a while to show up. What more could an English Major Mom want?

Patty Luzzi has lived on the Eastside for 32 years. Readers can contact her at pattyluzzi@yahoo.com.