During the inaugural week of our family fantasy football league, my husband and I realized that our almost ten-year-old son lacks a fundamental skill for a successful boyhood – the art of smack-talk.
Our four and eight year old sons were gleefully bantering non-stop from the third row seats of our car:
“Mom, I’m going to kick your butt next week!”
“I have the best kicker in the league!”
“Your quarterback is too old! I mean, a 36-year-old football player! You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“Remember that dumb trade you made last week…”
My husband chimed in with “You’ve got no chance, pipsqueak.”
And even I chanted, “Mom is the best!”
The nine year old, however, was smiling, enjoying it all, but responding to claims against his team with “hmmm… yeah, you’re probably right”, like Charlie Brown getting verbally squashed by Lucy.
I realized he is missing the smack-talking skill required of all boys.
So, while he studies long division, creates a relief map of the United States out of dough, and completes a poster for his The World According to Humphrey book report, he also has a new assignment. Probably more important than any other.
Nightly smack-talking drills.
Oh yeah. One day, my son is going to kick your son’s butt in…. whatever he decides to smack-talk about. Because I’m on it!
Just try to keep up.