So yesterday, Sunday, December 6th, was the EO's first Sport's Day in Big School.
Now, I know, as do you, that I am not the biggest fan of the EO's school and the 'old, traditional schools' in general, but they have one huge plus point. A point that is of enormous significance in my life in general. And that is TRADITION.
There is something about the way these schools go the whole nine yards and then some, when it comes to their events and special days. It's what kick-starts those old stirrings of pride in the four chambers of the heart. Something about the familiar grounds, experiences and yes, the school song just puts one helluva goofy grin on one's face. Yup, there is something about all that ceremonial splendour that touches the core of me.
So, yesterday, was the EO's first Sport's Day. And we were a big gang, cheering the EO and the Nephew on...my MIL (for whom the day brought back many, MANY memories of her two little boys and their Sport's Days on these very grounds), the Bro, my SIL, BIL-ly Boy, the YO and the Neice. The MIM was busy partying with models in Mumbai. Harumph!!! 'Nother story!! Ok, the party was on Saturday night. Geez!
Now the jocks in my family are basically the MIM and the Bro. They have drawers and cupboards full of medals, certs and trophies. Sport's Day was always THEIR day. That's why the Bro was sooo looking forward to watching his beloved nephew, while the MIM kept calling and speaking to me in whispers from his conference in far away Bombay.
What a grandiose atmosphere, in terms of energy, excitement and spirit. Wow! The bands, the colours, the march-past and the pledge...ooooohh! Thoroughly goose-bump inducing!
And what of the two budding sports-men? Little flash-back first. When the Nephew and the EO first started walking, they both had very unique and yes, hilarious individual styles. The Nephew would walk on tip-toe, his arms held out at each side for balance, with his thumb and forefinger joined together and pointing downwards. Dainty? Deliciously so!!
Now the EO, well, he had this rather wild swagger with arms flailing from side to side and a very stompy Bharatnatyam placement of feet. Kinda like tipsy baby gorilla meets sozzled Friar Tuck.
Seeing these two very unusual gaits, the SIL's younger brother christened the bearers of those swaggers, the French Barmaid and the Drunken Monk. Guess which one fit whom...
Cut to five years later. Said cutie-pies with the weird walks have evolved into pint-sized heart-throbs with even stranger running styles. My brother didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He finally settled on joining in on the belly-aching laughter.
The Nephew has finally managed to pin those arms down to his side now instead of somewhere mid-air. So now, he had morphed into the Penguin. My EO has taken on the mantle of the hoppity-skippity French Barmaid with gazelle genes in it's DNA.
But you know what, hopping and skipping aside, the EO had a blast! I could see the sheer joy on his face as he ran and to me, that was all that mattered!
The other highlight...my YO, despite being quite ill, participated in the visitor's race, little boys under ten. He was definitely the smallest and youngest in the line-up, but he finished the race. He finished. And he was so proud of himself. As was I.
I was proud of both of my boys.
Now it's time to teach them how to run.
Newsletter: Grey skies, happy heart
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