My three-year-old daughter looked up at me the other day and asked, “Daddy, can I have a world record please?”
My heart melted on the spot.
As a dad who spends my hobby time breaking records, I wanted nothing more than to just hand her a framed certificate. But that is not how life works, and it is definitely not how Guinness World Records works. You have to earn them. You have to put in the time, embrace failure, and do the work.
I broke records with my son Jeremy when he was nine (and one that he didn’t get credit for in a stroller when he was 5), and with Peter when he was seven. But three years old? That was uncharted territory. She has been my shadow during training sessions for years. She has tried keepy-uppy, bouncing pencils in cups, hungry hungry hippos blind, stacking toilet paper, and even flipping cups, which she got shockingly good at. But none of those were close to a world standard.
Then I spotted the title for the most passes through a back-spun hoop in thirty seconds.
The bar was set at eight. It sounded simple enough and she was the right size, but a spinning hoop moving backward requires sharp timing and complete lack of fear. I asked her if she wanted to try it with me, and her eyes lit up.
Our first practice was a disaster. I launched the hoop, gave it heavy backspin, and she hesitated before charging forward. She was late, made mostly through the hoop and tripped on her ankle. It and she clattered to the floor. We laughed, dusted off, and tried again, but she was nowhere near record pace.
Here is the thing about resilience: it is not something you lecture a toddler about. Whenever she wanted to try we did, whenever she wanted to stop we did.
The next morning, she pointed right at the hoop. “Can we do a world record again?” (Completely oblivious to the difference between practicing a world record and trying to break one).
So we did. Day after day, we had fun together. She learned how to time the spin, duck her head, and jump her little legs through. Much to my surprise, soon she got the timing down and she I had a set of good backspin throws, she was lightning fast. I started realizing she was actually going to be able to break the record.
When my wife headed out of town to run a half marathon in the Great Smoky Mountains, I called in witnesses, prepped the timekeepers, and set up the cameras. It was go time.
Pressure has a funny way of crashing the party. We lined up, the clock started, and we failed. Again and again. Sometimes my throws were just a bit off and sometimes she mistimed the jump.
Whenever she told me she wanted to quit, we stopped on the spot. Chasing records with your kids shouldn’t be about parental ambition or stress. It has to be fun. If the joy leaves the room, the attempt is over. It was tough since I had the witnesses there and cameras set up. But she asked to stop so we did. I believed our window had closed for the weekend.
Ten minutes later though before they left, she stepped up to the line and said. “I’m ready to try again.”
We set the marks, took a breath, and started the timer. I spun that hoop out, She darted off the line. She ducked, jumped, turned, and charged through the spinning ring over and over. When time was called, she had cleared ten passes in thirty seconds. One throw of mine was disqualified for spinning back two inches shy of the distance line, but nine clean passes were all we needed.
We had the record.
We kept the celebration between us until the official certificate arrived a few weeks later. When the mail finally came, I set up a surprise reveal for the entire family. I handed certificates to my wife, to Jeremy, and to Peter, and then gave Felicity hers. All three of my kids held their first official world record certificates in their hands on the same day.
My name is David “Record Breaker” Rush. I am on a mission to break a world record nearly every week to inspire people to believe in themselves and promote STEM education. Follow along as my family and I keep chasing the impossible, one attempt at a time.
