We have just returned victorious from Jasper’s first Sports Day. He ran two races and won two gold medals. And if you ask how he feels about it all, he declares he is “too happy”.
That’s a 100% win rate. So, what is the secret to our success? Tough love. While the other parents were clamouring to see and cheer and photograph their little challengers, Dylan and I were hiding. In fairness to us, we were obeying the long-suffering teachers’ instructions to avoid being seen by the children lest they get distracted and forget to run. But while Dylan and I did our best ‘crouching mummy, hidden baba’ impression, the smiling, happy faces of those impassioned parents did indeed cause the forewarned distraction. Child after beloved child sobbed their way down the track, crumpling into a distraught pile of limbs at the end.
But not Jasper. He stormed over the finish line with thirty yards to spare. Which, in a forty yard dash is no mean feat. In his second race he even stopped half-way to take off his hat before recommitting to the task at hand. This time it was an obstacle race and the odds were stacked against the other children. The obstacle was a ball, and the race was to pick it up and carry it to the end. Needless to say, Jasper barely broke stride as he scooped up his oh-so-familiar cargo. The look on his face as he waited for the others to amble up behind him both times suggested that he wasn’t really trying to win, he was simply doing what he had been told to do. Namely, to run, something which he absolutely loves. But the look on his face when, at the end of his second race, pride got the better of me and I broke cover in an over-animated cheer confirmed that we did the right thing in hiding.
I should perhaps remind you that Jasper only recently turned two. Getting a class of two-year-olds to do anything is like herding cats. And then add to that twice the number again of disobedient parents all trying to surreptitiously break every rule that has been laid out for them, and it’s a Nursery School Sports Day. Hats off to the teachers for making anything happen at all. The event took place on a real-life, grown-up sized running track at the Priyadarshini Park which is an ocean-front sports facility and park. It was a lovely setting and an even lovelier atmosphere of anticipation and mild confusion on both sides of the track barriers.
Jasper has been in training for Sports Day for almost two months. His school takes it incredibly seriously, in that they spend week after week making sure that the kids know what’s expected of them so they can take the time to enjoy themselves on the day (beaming, over-eager parents notwithstanding). For the past few weeks, as Jasper’s speech has been developing in leaps and bounds, I have been asking him about his training.
“What did you do in school today, Jasper?”
“Pushing and hitting.”
“No. That’s what you’ve been told expressly NOT to do, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“So what did you do in school today?”
“Ummmm, running! Japper take the ball and give to pretty!”
“Oh! Jasper takes the ball and gives it to Miss Priti! Is this for Sports Day?”
“Yes.”
“And do you run fast?”
“Yes.”
“And do your friends run fast?”
“Japper run fast.”
“Who runs the fastest?” “Japper.”
So, you see, I had an inkling that he understood the brief. And I had also run the very same pick-up-the-ball-and-peg-it manoeuvre with him several times on the field at home.
To Dylan’s dismay, the school wouldn’t release any information about the contents of Sports Day ahead of time, because, in their words “we want it to be a surprise for the parents.” I fully support this level of secrecy. Imagine if parents had been training their children on the side, giving them an unfair advantage? Shhhhhh.
In all honesty, there was as much chance of Jasper getting over excited half-way down the track and deciding to do his signature, flamboyant three-legged dog pose, as there was of him winning. It was a relief that he felt like following instructions that morning. It’s safe to say that every child there had their own unique approach to the demands of the day. Some of them actually seemed to accelerate through their tears, while others looked like they were out on a Sunday afternoon stroll. Some flapped their arms more than their legs, others appeared to be tiptoe-ing. And some were pretty much being pushed along by the teachers to make sure everyone completed their race.
We have known about Sports Day since Jasper joined The Mango Tree in June this year, and while I expected to enjoy it, I didn’t anticipate the rush of adrenalin watching Jasper do so well. As I contemplate my future life as a sports mum and wonder how not to become a tiger mother, I am willing to admit that it’s a good thing we had to leave before the mother and father races began, because I am not sure Dylan or I want to expose our own true colours just yet.
And let’s not forget, Jasper is only two years old. A lot can happen between now and an Olympic medal.
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