It's the Winter Olympics, of course, which means that our TV is on 200% more than it usually is. We're Olympics junkies over at Chez Pair, and we're not picky about sport or season-- we're happy to watch curling or gymnastics, slalom or basketball.
This is the first year my kids have really gotten into it, and it's been fun to watch. Every imaginary game they play is about them competing in the Olympics-- albeit with sometimes strange sports.
This morning the Ninja Olympics were held in my family room. This involved wearing all black and executing the best "HI-YAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
Yesterday were the Skidding-across-the-floor-in-socks Olympics. My son won this event, only because halfway through the competition it was discovered that my daughter had on skid-proof socks.
I love to watch their imaginations bloom, and I love the way that the Olympics has sparked both their play and their senses of self-worth. They see no reason why they may not someday be Olympians, and no reason why Sock Skating could not be a sport.
(Who can blame them, ever since Trampoline was admitted into Summer Games?)
It's times like these when I learn so much from my children about the virtue of possibility. Of COURSE they can be Olympians, in sports that don't exist. The same way my son can be both a professional football player and a concert violinist, as he plans. The same way that my daughter wants to drive a tractor, be an astronaut, and have four children.
Anything is possible with them, and it is inspiring.
I feel no need to tell my son that he's unlikely to even play football in high school, given his smallish stature. I can't see the benefit in telling my daughter that the US has given up on the moon.
I simply tell them that if they work hard, do the work, and have passion, anything is possible.
(And then I remind myself.)