15.

Unlike how it usually happens, this week's blog post idea came to me easily.  When we were discussing the stereotypes of moms vs. dads and how they communicate, EVERYTHING related to my family perfectly.  For the first 11 years of my life, my main sport was dance.  I loved it.  I spent 30 hours a week at the studio and I competed, attended conventions, and performed. Guess who was the parent bringing me flowers and volunteering at dance competitions? That's right, my mom.  I don't think my dad has ever even entered my second home (aka the studio) before.  When he comes to pick me up from class, I get an "I'm here" text message.  However, this all changed when I decided to take up lacrosse over the summer before my freshman year.  My dad IMMEDIATELY got involved.  It was as if he was trying to make up for the past 11 years when he couldn't contribute anything.  Whenever I was practicing, I didn't even have to ask and my dad would be out there, trying to help me.  I can relate to this quote, "Dad knew almost nothing about lacrosse and his movements were all wrong and sad to watch" endlessly (Mairs 145).  He and I have made many dents in the garage with our bad aim and lack of hand-eye-coordination.  What I found weird at first was, these dents in the garage were perfectly ok to him but when I slammed doors on my pointe shoes trying to break them in, that was "noisy and not what doors are made for".  Around Christmas time, I even started seeing him online shopping for lacrosse sticks; I've gone through dozens of pairs of pointe shoes and he has never come fit for a pair with me.  This relates to "Arm Wrestling with My Father" because similar to the dad in that story, my dad has loved me from the beginning; he just didn't know how to show it.