The school sports day came around again, and so it was that we found ourselves camped on a greenant-ridden field on a chilly Brisbane morning.
The Parents and Friends Association had thoughtfully arranged for a coffee/hot chocolate van to be there for thirsty parents and teachers, but unfortunately, there was a wait for the electricity key. Queue agitated queue of anxious parents in desperate need of a caffeine hit. There was talk of queue-jumping and coffee-snatching, but no one was admitting anything. Eventually I got my coffee (a skinny flat white if you must know), and was able to put my mind to the task of cheering on the kids. (Okay, there may have been some gossiping going on with other parents, but you didn't hear that from me...)
C. had a touch of Braveheart Action going on ...
H. had her fighting stripes on ...
Missy makes her move in the egg and spoon race. Pity it's not an Olympic sport ... and yes, that is one of my tops because at the last minute I found out she didn't own anything blue. It's more like a dress on H.
C. ready to run his race ...
But at the finish line he crashed and burned and hurt his neck. That got us one free ride in an ambulance to the Mater Childrens' Hospital in Brisbane.
(It's okay ... it was a little dramatic as they had to treat it as a possible fracture.) But he soon got the all-clear and plenty of pain killer. Plus he got to keep this very cool neck brace. It's the latest must-have for 9-year-olds, don't you know?
As C. said wistfully, as he cuddled the kitten and snuggled into a mountain of pillows: Why does everything have to happen to me?
(I don't know son, I don't know ... but we'll get through it together)
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I'm a writer, author, journalist, blogger, and mum. I love my kids, hate housework, and would rather chew my arm off than supervise homework. Picker-upper of toys and pet poo; finder of lost things; and curser of the Sock Monster. When I grow up, I want a pony.