(no subject)
The thing I remember most about first and second grade is how much I wanted a Nintendo Entertainment System, and how I would have done anything to get one. I eventually did get one, as gift from all four of my grandparents for Christmas when I was in second grade. But I spent the whole year previous to that begging my parents to get me one. In autumn, my parents made a deal with me: if I could score a goal in soccer, they'd buy me a Nintendo. I was awful at sports, partly because I had no interest in sports whatsoever, and partly because I spent most of my time on the field staring off into the space daydreaming that I had a Nintendo. But suddenly, I had motivation to actually try. And wouldn't you know it, through some stunning combination of luck and determination, I scored a goal.
So I ran up to my parents after the game, and looked at them expectantly, waiting to be told that we could go to the toy store. Instead, my dad said something to the effect of "Big deal, score another goal and then maybe we'll talk."
I was heartbroken. I had been offered a deal, and when I fulfilled my end of the deal, the terms changed suddenly. Well, I wasn't for that fucking bullshit a second time. And I never EVER attempted to be anything other than awful at soccer ever again.
A couple years later, I realized the truth: my parents had absolutely no faith in me whatsoever. They were so fucking sure that I'd never score a goal in soccer that they were willing to promise me anything I wanted if I could do it. And so, by fourth grade, I had figured out my place in life: I was useless, even my parents knew I was useless, and I would never amount to anything ever.
And hey, they were right. There's your lesson, kids. Go fucking enjoy it.