Now we’re nearly at the sumit an unsponsored, bare-footed Kilimanjaro climb, aka the summer holidays, I can feel the golden, hazy glow of back to school on the horizon. Banded around too early and “Back to School” can have the same Grinch-like affect as hearing “Last Christmas” in October – but at this stage, it not only offers parental relief, it can send me into cold sweats; with this mirage of hope, surely comes the dreaded trip to the concrete jungle of a shopping mall – the only place (until now) known to man to contain all required paraphernalia for that wonderful day on the calendar (yes, it might just be marked in red sharpie for added enthusiasm) “BACK TO SCHOOL”!
Friday just gone saw the annual Fun Run at the boys’ primary school where for the past 5 years (and probably long before our boys attended) has been an obligatory, competitive, cross-country style race. First, second and third, in each year group were congratulated with medals and a certificate handed out in next week’s assembly to rapturous applause from their peers. The “fun” aspect came from the optional fancy dress, however, coming from a sporting (read: dangerously competitive) family our boys always opted out of the “fun” part, choosing instead to do their best to win an “actual medal”. Imagine their disgust this year. after 3 weeks of self-inflicted training, when the PTA email thudded into my inbox informing my mini-competitors that this year’s event wasn’t really a race – everyone would be given a medal for taking part and that they would have to drag a “buddy” from another year group round some shin-bruising obstacles!
Has the world gone mad?!?!