Everyone's a winner

Ah, Sports Day at The Boy's school.  Time to remind myself how very, very terrible at sport I was at school and remian to this day.  Time also to be surprised at how competitive the parents are, both in regards to their "own" races and those of their children.

There will be elbowing at the finish line (from both parents and children).  There will be much screaming for their own children, and everyone else can safely be ignored for they are not considered to be of any worth.

There will the winners who make it over the line first.  There will be the losers who come so significantly last that nobody cheers for them. Nobody at all.

Well, apart from me.  For I will position myself at the finish line, and I will whoop and cheer and make my loud appreciative gig noises, much to the annoyance and eventual deafening of the other parents.

I will clap every child, I will congratulate every one, and I will clap and cheer the ones that are last because, for most of them, they have been dreading this day.  Their participation in itself is the sign of a real winner.

And when my son comes last, which he did this year as he did last year and no doubt will do every year, I will clap and hug and tell him that it does not matter; it is taking part that counts.

Except this year, I did not need to.  He excitedly approached me at the finish line, and told me "I came last Mummy!"  I prepared myself for the emotional onslaught that appeared to be inevitable, and he merely told me, whilst hopping from leg to leg "It didn't matter though because I tried."

As he turned to go, he turned back and shouted to me "Did you see my friend Griffith though? He came first! I'm really proud of him!"

See chaps? Coming last can also mean you come first, it all depends on the atttitude.