Yesterday marked another milestone – my son’s last ever primary school sports day. I have to admit I wasn’t there, well not all of the time anyway. I arrived just as the novelty races started, to see him fall his way up the field in the sack race (definitely more sack involved than race!).
He came away from the track not the happiest I’ve ever seen him and I gingerly asked how the rest of the events had gone. “I did okay in the cross-country, but the sprints were a disaster.” he said, glowering at me with that accusatory look that added, “and you weren’t there”. Guilt starting to bloom, I quickly changed subject, “Do you want to keep hold of the dog while I go to get a cup of tea?”
By the time I got back all seemed to have been forgotten as the dog was now centre of attention with his mates. Two more races to go – the egg and spoon, and the wheelbarrow. Not so disastrous, a second and a third place ensued, yayyy!
I love my children and take an interest in everything they do, but I’m so looking forward to my son moving up to secondary school, where sports day parent attendance is definitely not expected, or even wanted.
