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Note to new-dad Brady — relax, enjoy your boy


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With a baby, you can do this with a game where you lift him with two hands and say “uuuuuppp!” then drop him slightly, and catch him before he lands on your chest while saying “dowwwwwwwwnnn!” The key, though, is not to drop him. You’re supposed to counterbalance the mother’s everyday fears, not confirm them. (Rex Grossman, please don’t ever play this game with your children.)

You also have to run to the other extreme — hard-as-nails disciplinarian. This does not mean breaking out the whuppin’ stick or snapping a switch off a tree in the back yard, or whatever poor stereotype of parenting comes to mind. But you want your child to fear the consequences of crossing you enough that the phrase “wait until dad hears about this” brings out a cold sweat. Fortunately, you have time to work on this. Babies tend not to respond to that kind of prodding.

As your child grows, inevitably the question of “what sport he will play?” will come up. Not because you’re a Hall-of-Fame-bound quarterback, but because you’re a guy with a son. It’s the law.

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The thing to remember is, it doesn’t matter how much football gear he wears as a baby, or how many plush footballs you give him, or how many times you have him watch your Super Bowl videos. At a certain point, your son will choose his own athletic path.

As a native Hoosier, I gave my oldest son, who is 10, and my oldest daughter, who is 8, little basketball gear to wear, little plush basketballs, and frequent viewings of Reggie Miller. What did that get me? A son who loves to play hockey and volleyball, but not basketball, and a daughter who loves to play softball, but not basketball. But that’s OK. I didn’t bother trying with my now 4-year-old son and my 2-year-old daughter, because I learned my lesson that I can‘t force my athletic interests on my children. Though my baby daughter does hand me a basketball whenever we’re outside, and tries to shoot with me, so I have hope. But the important thing is that it’s her choice. Even though she’s my last chance. And it would break my heart if none of my children wanted to play basketball. But that’s OK (sniff, sniff).

Anyway, it could be your son chooses no sport at all. The point is, when it comes to your son, the fun is in getting to know him, and getting to watch him find his interests and self. It will probably mean watching a lot of Thomas the Tank Engine videos along the way. And sitting through a lot of school holiday shows. And hearing a lot of babbling about stuff you’re not even sure your son understands.

But I think you might have figured out already that getting to know and love your own child is a more spectacular experience than any Super Bowl. It’s a long, slow, sometimes painful process that will give you rewards even Robert Kraft — or your life insurance agent — could never provide.

Bob Cook is a contributor to MSNBC.com and a freelance writer based in Chicago.


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