Sigh. My kids lifted with me. There's a picture somewhere of the youngest, years ago when he weighed about #60, deadlifting #135.
He turned 15 yesterday. He's significantly stronger than most of his much taller and heavier friends, though not as strong as he could be. That comes of squatting, deadlifting, pressing etc., even when pre-pubescent.
This winter, he claims to want to do The Program as written. We'll see. He now has enough testosterone coursing through his veins to make some really significant progress.
My middle child is an 11-year-old boy. He's big for his age (5' 4" and about 110 lbs.) and not likely to be the target of bullies. About a month ago he asked me to teach him how to lift because he wanted to get stronger to be a better soccer player. I agreed to do it after I saw him trying to do curls with the unabridged dictionary. Using the rack in our basement, I've started him squatting a very light kiddie bar. He's also doing light overhead presses, floor presses (we don't have a bench), and deadlifts. And he's working toward an unassisted chin-up. He turned an old notebook into a training log that he keeps up diligently. He has set himself a Tu/Th/Su schedule and prods me to go down to the basement with him for his sessions. This is all coming from him. He considers it fun. And frankly, it's fun for me, too. Also, I get a kick out of thinking about someone asking him, years from now, what got him started lifting weights, and him responding, "Well, you see, my mom . . ."