Would You Rather games are quite popular these days. The premise is to ask a question that poses a rather impossible situation or just a silly scenario.
Would you rather drive a moped on a tight rope or go over Niagara Falls in a barrel?
Would you rather be Luke Skywalker or Harry Potter?
Today, our farm boy brought home a “Would You Rather” worksheet from school. The students had to write their own question and then answer it. Our farm boy wrote: “Would you rather be the best at ski jumping but never get to the Olympics OR be able to compete in the Olympics but not win a medal?“
Figures he’d mention the Olympics. Beginning with the Opening Ceremonies, we watched every night, analyzed the events, gasped at the spectacular performances and heart-stopping crashes. We shed a few tears at the behind-the-medal stories, and nervously chuckled at the sheer craziness of some Olympic events. I mean, really, the skeleton race; as if careening at 80+ mph on your back wasn’t thrilling enough, let’s do that head-first. Brilliant!
Our farm boy and farm princess internalized every win and lose, and spent days dreaming their own Olympics dreams. Roller skating became epic attempts at triple toe loops. The ice in the drive was perfect for curling practice and hockey games. The snow piles were just high enough for jumps, although sleds weren’t ideal snowboards.
We caught a few medal ceremonies. The kids were concerned with so many tears. Just once our farm boy mused, “I think the silver and bronze people cry because they lost the gold.”
Said like a true blue Type A personality. I have mentioned our farm boy is the stereotypical first child, driven, independent, always-right, always-first, always-the-best. I was that child, am still that adult. I am a work in progress, and am okay admitting that.
It’s hard watching our son struggle with simple things because he expects perfection. I find myself considering the right response to his frustration, not wanting to add to his personal pressure-cooker; however I do want to reinforce the idea of doing his best. And . . . gulp . . . his best effort is good enough.
Back to Would You Rather. . . the question was: “Would you rather be the best at ski jumping but never get to the Olympics OR be able to compete in the Olympics but not win a medal?”
Our farm boy answered: “I would rather not win a medal because it would be fun just to make a huge ski jump.”
Well said young one. Sometimes, life isn’t about the win. It’s about the jump.