Tonight was the Fall Frolic at the girls’ school. Basically a casual field day with a table full of cider donuts and water.
I got sucked into helping with the Sack Races. When I arrived, friends were manning the spin-around-with-your-forehead-on-a-bat-and-then-run station. No one was interested. I wasn’t either. I’d just eaten Chipotle, and I’m sure excessive spinning would have turned ugly. It was quiet at Sack Races, too. What these kids needed was a challenge.
Sure enough, these kids just needed a good opponent. No, that’s not what they needed. They needed a serious butt-kicking.
I won several races until a third grade ringer joined in. She beat scores of fifth graders, and me, in repeated races. Frankly, I think that she needs to enroll in the Sack Race Olympic Training Center
I ended up hoarse with a sore knee, but my station was waaaay more popular than that spinny one.
When we got home, I asked M, “So, did I completely humiliate you by doing all that Sack Racing.”
“No, it was okay,” she said. “But maybe don’t do it again.”