Me Too had her Sports Day on Saturday. And I’m just getting around to writing about it…second child syndrome? Me First has made life tres dramatique as of late, and the blog- she suffers.
I managed to make most of the jumbo sized lunch the day before. Me Too was very apprehensive about this whole Sports Day business, and I had reason to believe she’d keep me occupied with a glorious fit o’tantrum on the morn in question.
My reasons for anticipating Le Freaque Out are these: she’d been moaning about having to sit with her ‘stupid’ class instead of me, she was overly worried about whether or not she could get a gold medal (it’s for participation, for chrissake, everybody gets one,) and for about a week before the blessed event she was so nervous about performing for an audience that she was having night terrors.
And she didn’t disappoint on the morning of. I was doubly glad to have prepared the culinary disaster the night before because I had forgotten to factor in another, um, factor.
And I should have known better.
Me First took forever to get ready, mostly because he kept filling his backpack with crap I wouldn’t let him take: miniature legos, battery powered toys that would be stolen or broken, at one point he had National Geographic’s Animal Encyclopedia in there.
We managed to leave the house on time. (Yes, Virginia, there is a god.)
The preschool Sports Day is not as militaristic and scary as the elementary school one. It doesn’t give you flash backs to your time spent in the Nazi Youth. Oh, wait, that may have been somebody else….
When the time came for Me Too’s class to run their race, I saw what she had been complaining about. In her group of five, there were three boys. They would have been fast, anyway, but every one of them jumped the gun. Except for Me Too, of course. So she ended up in fourth place, and that’s why she was worried about getting a medal. It being an Olympic year and all, she was convinced that only the top three would be awarded.
After much sitting around by us, it was time for the nen-chu kids to do their pom-pom dance. Me Too did a great job! She danced with confidence. Later she enjoyed criticizing the other kids on video.
We had lunch, then the parent/child dance thing, which is conducted with the sole purpose of making the parents look like bumbling idiots. At the end, Me Too got her “gold” medal. I could tell she was really anxious about this, even as the teacher was handing them out to everyone in turn. I mean, the kid who had a hissy fit during the dance time got a medal. The kid who tried to tear down the streamers got a medal. The one who crawled instead of running during the race (and ended up being carried, kicking and screaming) got a medal. Seriously, what was she worried about?
But she got it, and she was thrilled. The very first thing she did was bite it. To see if it was genuine plastic, I suppose?
Meanwhile, Brother found a couple of kids from his class at school and spent most of the day playing tag. I’m *hoping* that he has finally made some friends. He’s promised to play with one of the boys at the park on Friday. Of course these are seven-year-olds we’re talking about, so the chances of them both remembering the day, the time, the place, is less than likely. I wrote it on the calendar in pen, and so it shall be, sayeth the mom.
We went to the in-laws a couple of days later, and they wanted to show me the pictures they had taken. I kid you not, seventy percent of the pictures were of Brother. What. The. Hell. He wasn’t supposed to be the main event. I said something in a joking manner to them, and they acted like I was off my rocker. Because we must emphasize his Lordship, the Carrier of the Name in every instance, apparently.
Of course Me First is just the heir apparent, not imminent because at any time POS BIL could get married. Or reproduce. Or clone himself. I don’t think I’d approve of the favoritism in any event, but given that it is based on a precarious position? I’m just not that into that.
Next time, on HamakkoMommy: the in-laws overstep their bounds (again,) HamakkoMommy vs. The Not-so-great State of South Carolina. It appears, folks, that yours truly has been purged. This could get interesting.
And as a foot note, I don’t know why that picture at the top got cut off like that. Oops?