Friday, June 10, 2011

First Prize. For Effort.


It was Sports Day at Toddler Oub's Montessori school today. And it was reassuring to see that she has inherited the D'Oub family's complete and utter lack of sporting prowess. She was rubbish. Came last in just about everything. Was the only child to actually receive help to complete a race.

As she says herself - 'I can't hop.'


Hopping - Not an Oubby trait.


She lost the egg'n'spoon race because she was so concerned with keeping the egg (aka potato) on the spoon. The two lads she was racing against had reach the finishing line, peeled, cooked and eaten the potato while she was still oh so carefully inching along. And she's the one who looked witheringly at me when I called it the egg'n'spoon race - potato mammy, potato (with added eyes thrown to heaven.)

Definite winner for best plaited pigtails... (Sadly though, not the source of some secret athletic powers.)


And through it all I laughed and laughed and laughed. I laughed so hard I cried. Actual tears rolled from my eyes such was my merriment at watching my little darling. I'm such a supportive mother. But hey, she's three, I've surely got a few years before the real, serious psychological damage is done.


Of course, I could put her dire performance down to her recent bout of chicken pox and the fact that we are just back from a very demanding mini-break up to Belfast. Lots of fun was had by all. We visited the Giant's Causeway. I was told in all seriousness by Second Son how it was created by Finn McCool. This the child who dissected the government's economic policies in one easy step. That said, the government's economics are harder to swallow than any ancient fairy stories and half as credible. Boom, boom.


Son delighting in the natural wonders of the Giant's Causeway

Daughter succeeding much better in the sitting down looking cute race


Littlest daughter looking like Frida Kahlo. Though that hat may have been too mad, even for Frida.



6 comments:

120 Socks said...

Up far too late writing flash fiction! So here's my take on this. I give fab daughter first prize no matter how well she did, and I reckon she would agree, due in part to having a fab Mam, even if she doesn't know the difference between an egg and a potatoe!

Niamh B said...

that hat is just splendid!
and little oub is great at hopping - it's just that she happens to do it with both legs at the same time - so she's twice as good as the other kids really

Titus said...

Are the toddlers over there so dangerous all spectators have to be kept safe behind a wooden fence? Good golly, that's like bull-fighting.
And great plaits. Even greater that you call them plaits, as over here they're pleats. I always want to say, 'No, that's skirts, dear.' But don't.
Inspired Frida Kahlo-ness.

Domestic Oub said...

Socks - as usual, blush, you're too kind :)

Niamh - exactly, hopping with two feet. That said, your little guy is so lovely and obviously advanced that bet he can hop to a 5 yr old level already.

Titus - yes, yes, Toddlers here have zombie-like qualities and the general public must be protected at all times.

And really, 'pleats'? Whoever heard of such linguistic madness?

Rachel Fox said...

My daughter is crap at school sports too (and we live in super-competitive-ville). Just the sight of the skipping rope is almost too much to bear!
Last year her Grandma's funeral just happened to be on Sports Day... and I told her it was Grandma's last gift to her - getting to miss the dreaded day! And we laughed (and then sobbed...).
x

Domestic Oub said...

Rachel, I am coming to the conclusion that being rubbish at sport is the sign of genius in a person! All that energy that would be wasted running and jumping is instead redirected into being brilliant.