My son’s annual school sports festival was held a couple days ago. This time I went alone, armed with the video recorder. My husband had a tournament game (which his team won- yay!) and my sister-in-law had to work, so there was no one to chase after my daughter in her wheelchair. It was also very, very hot. Around 33 degrees centrigrade, I’d say.
The poor children had to stand very still under the blazing sun for about 40 minutes during the interminable speeches that made up the opening ceremony. The other foreign mothers and I kvetched about that, but the kids never complained.
I participated in the tug-of-war and folk dance, and also the second graders’ parent-child race. It was a relay, in which the parent and child were supposed to run up to a hula hoop, loop it over the two of them, and run around some cones. There were some dads in front of us who were literally dragging their children over the gravel in their mad dash to win. Some parents really get into it. I suppose they want to impress their kids, impress the spectators, and they want to win! At the end, the race was neck and neck. My son’s best friend and his dad were anchoring the other team. They were just a little bit behind, and in a heroic effort, the kid’s dad lurched ahead, slipped on the gravel and fell on his shoulder. As it turned out, he dislocated his shoulder and now he needs surgery. To make matters worse (for him), our team won.