Friday, May 21, 2010

Field Day

I swear to God, unless your child is a track and field super-star, "field day" is the handiwork of the devil himself. It is a freaking nightmare for all involved. My child was not built for speed. Or for sudden movement. Well, he can move suddenly if a lacrosse ball is being fired at him but that may be more impulse than anything else. He does not come from track and field stock. He is of Sicilian/Albanian/Irish/Scottish peasant stock. The kind of people that hold onto their fat in case of famine. Long and lean and fast is not in his gene pool. I was really hoping that as he's gotten a bit older he would see that if nothing else, "field day" is a great excuse to be outside with your friends on a sunny day rather than in the classroom. When I walked onto said field, I was hopeful. Jack had a blue ribbon pinned to his chest and was beaming. Sweet. No 4th, 5th, 6th or participation ribbons. We're off to a good start. It was downhill from there. Foot race? Last place. Hurdles errrrr, not so much. This caused him to immediately start inwardly sulking. Which is WAY better than outwardly sulking, trust me. But I could tell. I'm his mommy. I gently explained (YES, I CAN be gentle if the moment requires it) that not everybody is good at everything. I told him quite truthfully that I abhorred field day when I was a kid. I also informed him that most of these fools couldn't play lacrosse if their lives depended on it. Still nothin'. I left shortly before the long jump. I'm not hopeful. What I AM hopeful is that the rest of the day managed to be fun for him. Some generous parents bought his class pizza, they were going to watch movies, etc., etc. after the field day extravaganza had concluded. I'm just glad it's over. Field day is pretty much the closing salvo on all of the freaking madness that takes place during the last few weeks of school. Field trips, carnival, field day, count-down to the last day in the cafeteria. I honestly think their is a conspiracy amongst faculty to whip the kids into the biggest frenzy possible before they turn them back over to the parents for the summer. Kinda like revenge for the condition our kids are in when we deposit them at school on the first day.  All jacked up from a summer of constant stimulation and in no manner ready to settle down and learn.  Revenge is, after all, a dish best served cold.

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