The possibilities are delicious and irresistible for kids and teens. Maybe your friend will be compelled to reveal his crush. Perhaps he will be forced to perform some mildly embarrassing activity. Or called chicken when he refuses.
The boys' game quickly evolved into simply "Dare." They each devised and wrote down dares for one another to perform, even recruiting Mark and me to come up with some ideas to throw into the pot. Run around the house with your shirt off. Go outside and yell, "I need to poop!"
Ben had no problem with most of the early dares. He even stepped up to the challenge of belting a karaoke version of "Let it Go," earnest emotions and all.
Things quickly took a turn when Ben was forced out of his comfort zone, i.e. anything that asked him to interact with people outside his small circle. He flat out refused to ask for and kiss one of Big Ben's sister's stuffed animals. Asking Ben's dad how he would rate him on a scale of 1-10? No way.
It became clear that Ben fell squarely in the "it's fun to watch you do embarrassing stuff, but don't ask me to do it" camp. I watched with a bit of distress as relations between the friends became a little chilly and strained at Ben's refusal to complete the challenges.
Ben's face looked defiant, angry. I fretted for him as he began to look teary. Ah, to be 11, caught between two worlds. You still very much feel like crying at times, but to do so is socially verboten.
Watching it all transpire, I remembered my own time in this phase of my life. I was pretty much like Ben. I participated in many a game of truth or dare, not to mention being a victim of plenty of slumber party bra freezings. I tended to find the whole thing humiliating, unable to take it all in stride. It's a rite of passage, I suppose.
It's a strange experience going through this phase as a mom, especially as a mom of boys. I know and understand the cruelty of girls. I suffered through, and, sadly, I'm sure I was a party to it on more than one occasion. Boys, though, act in ways that are completely foreign to me. It's intimidating.
As hard as it was to go through middle school myself, it's harder still to imagine pain and humiliation befalling my children. Believe me, I wanted to throttle the jock-football player kid who told Ben that soccer isn't sport.
Overall, everything seems pretty good with Ben so far, not that he tells me much of anything. I want to say that no matter what, he'll get through the slings and arrows of adolescence. It's tough, though. You can't really be blasé about this, either. I've read the recent study that links bullying and teasing suffered in childhood to lifelong problems. And yet I feel powerless to have much influence over the situation. In many ways, I feel like all I can do is hope for the best.
The day of the doomed truth or dare game, I took Ben aside, tried to defuse the situation. "You know, you can just tell your friends you'd rather not play that game."
Of course Ben insisted that he likes the game, that Big Ben and Paul were being unreasonable and ganging up on him. This line of defense is classic Ben, perfect 11-year-old evasion.
As I reflected on all of this, I felt grateful to be an adult, to be past the phase of doing things I don't like. My truth or dare days are long gone, and to this day I don't like games or activities that call on me to act silly. Charades? No thanks. As an adult I can say that, and no one tries very hard to pressure me to change my mind. I'm an introvert, and I own that, and I accept who I am.
I was trying to impart a bit of wisdom to Ben, but he wasn't ready for it. Unfortunately, you can't rush emotional maturity. Some lessons aren't learned but rather earned through life experience. I wish him an easy journey.
