When my athletic yet extremely sensitive nine-year-old son told me he wanted to play tackle football, I started laughing. We don’t play football. I read Malcolm Gladwell and for goodness sake, look at the brain scans of football players. Not my son. Part of me even wondered, can he even play football? Is he tough enough? I kept imagining some big, burly football dad screaming from the sideline, “There’s no crying in football!” and me running out onto the field with some tissues and a thermos of hot cocoa to comfort my crying son.