I was talking to a friend who is a trained psychiatrist, the mother of three sons, and very wise, so I asked her for her opinion about a common challenge that comes up in parenthood.

“Let’s say your child doesn’t want to do some particular activity, like middle-school soccer,” I said, “but as a parent you think, ‘Well, now you don’t want to, but if you did it, you might really enjoy it. Even more important, you’d have the fun and learning of being on a team. You’d hang out with the other kids, you’d be on the bus, you’d be part of the action, you’d make friends.’ But your child doesn’t want to do it. Should a parent push—or not?”

“Well,” she said, “at least in the context of being on a team, I’ll say this. From what I’ve seen, that kind of team is very tolerant of a kid who is super enthusiastic, who really loves to play, and just isn’t good. They get it: Some kids don’t have great athletic skills, and that’s okay. But often, those same team members would be very annoyed by a kid who isn’t good and also doesn’t really want to be there. So if you as a parent think that the main reason for being on the team is to help a child make friends, it might not be a good way.”

The minute she said that, I felt like the situation became so much clearer. When, as parents, we face questions like these, it’s so easy to let our hopes and our expectations cloud the reality of the situation and people’s behavior.

I’m reminded of how constantly I confront my fantasy-self. I have ideas about the way I wish I were, or how I think I ought to be, or about how other people expect me to be, and those notions get in the way of understanding who I really am.

These fantasies can extend to my children, too, and to other people in my life. But I’m happier when I remember what I really want and when I stay grounded in reality.

That doesn’t mean that it’s always a bad idea to nudge a child to participate. But I thought her observation made the decision easier to consider.