Each spring and summer, my Facebook news feed is filled with pictures of my friends’ little boys playing T-Ball. Smiling faces, freshly starched uniforms and captions reading “Jimmy’s First Game!” or “Tommy Got a Home Run!” I myself posted such a picture last year: my son is in his uniform, smiling and assuming a batting stance. By all accounts, it’s an adorable picture. Both sets of Grandparents have even devoted a frame to it. But every time I look at his smiling face, I’m reminded of how much my little guy absolutely detested going to T-Ball each and every week. It was a nightmare! He cried, he whined, he dragged his feet, he wanted to stay home. When we actually got to the field he would participate in hitting the ball, but refused to play infield, and basically spent his time in the outfield gazing at the clouds, woolgathering.

Nonetheless, my husband and I persisted, insisting that our son finish out the season. We just assumed he’d grow into the sport, like an acquired taste. After all, didn’t other boys his age love it? Why didn’t our son? Why did our son hate T-Ball?

My husband is a HUGE baseball fan. His entire family loves the sport. Shortly after we met, he was fortunate enough to travel to Cooperstown with his grandfather, father and brother: three generations enjoying America’s pastime. Moreover, my in-laws have made it a goal as empty-nesters to visit all of America’s baseball parks. To say that baseball is in the family blood is an understatement. When we found out we were having a boy, my husband was so excited. He couldn’t wait to teach his son all about the game. When it came time for that first T-Ball season, my hubby dusted off his baseball glove, bought a matching one for our son and practiced with him in the backyard. Unfortunately, week after week, game after game, our son’s interest just wasn’t piqued and my husband’s disappointment grew.

I have no idea why our son hated T-Ball. He’s a very active kid, preferring to spend his time running and jumping around outside to anything else. He’s not a bashful or timid child by any stretch of the imagination either, he actually seeks out new friendships.  What’s more, he certainly doesn’t shy away from trying new things. I honestly thought the experience would be a “win-win-win”: time outside running around, time with Daddy, and time to make and play with new friends. We were completely baffled by his vehement dislike.

We never did make it to the end of that first season. About three-quarters of the way through the Saturday ritual of crying-whining-feet-dragging and cloud-gazing, my husband decided it just wasn’t worth the stress. This was supposed to be fun, and it was turning out to be a “fun sponge”, as my mother-in-law would put it: Like a sponge to water, T-Ball was sucking all of the joy and harmony out of our beloved Saturday mornings, leaving all of us with a heavy sense of stress that carried though the remainder of the day. Dramatic? Yes. True? Absolutely. A strong-willed little man to the core, our son is not known to do things in half-measures. Albeit a strong word, “hate” is honestly the most apt way to describe his reaction to the whole experience. So we put T-Ball on the shelf, and decided we’d try it again next year…maybe.

If there’s one thing I’m certain of as a parent, and what definitely guides my parenting style, is the notion that I want my children to be happy. I also believe that it’s important to encourage our kids to try something once or twice – be it a new food, or a new activity – before rendering a permanent decision. I feel like we gave T-Ball a fair shake, and it didn’t stick. My husband truly tried to make the sport fun and exciting, but at the end of the day our son just isn’t going to be a T-Ball player; he won’t be grinning ear-to-ear at his first game, he won’t be getting that home run. Even though my husband is sorely disappointed, it’s OK that our son hates T-Ball. We’re proud of him for giving it a try. Upon reflection, I am even prouder that he recognized and voiced his feelings to us about it.

All that being said, I’m going to go out on a limb here and actually admit that I feel a little sad and even perhaps a touch jealous when I see those adorable Facebook posts of my friends’ sons enjoying their T-Ball seasons. I want my son to experience the joy reflected on their faces, the camaraderie that comes from being part of a team.

For me, T-Ball is peer acclimation and peer acceptance in microcosm, and of course I want my son to fit in!

But if I really take a step back, relax and think about it, my son is fitting in, in his own way.

Though he be but little, he is fierce. Truer, Shakespearean words could not be said of my little guy; he knows what he likes, what he doesn’t like, and never hesitates to share his opinion. Our son may have hated T-Ball, but he’s constantly learning and experiencing so many other things that he LOVES: subjects that interest him like the ocean and sea creatures, hobbies such as cooking and reading, and outdoor activities that have begun to occupy hours and hours of his time like riding his bike, swimming, and playing tennis. Along the way, he’s meeting other kids who share in these interests.

So when the T-Ball registration forms circulated this past spring and the answer to the question “do you want to play?” was a resounding “no”, I wasn’t surprised. Was my husband disappointed? Yes, a little. But he and I are slowly accepting the fact that it’s OK for our son to hate T-Ball.  The most important thing is that he is happy carving out a little world for himself based on his own interests.

Have you encountered a similar situation with your child? What, if anything, has prompted you to worry about your child fitting in with his or her peers?