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It’s just minutes before the race is supposed to begin and there
is a bag of popcorn inside the mouth of our Child #1, and our suddenly
energized Child #2 is bouncing barefoot inside the bounce-house surrounded by a
flock of bouncing toddlers.
C’mon guys! We have to
START the race, if we are ever going to FINISH it. I grumble, my children’s
lack of focus and abject distractibility unwelcome mirror of my own. And no,
you can’t run in the race barefoot. You HAVE TO put your shoes.
I am a mean mother and I know it.
I watch in horror as Child #1 picks up a half a dozen bags of
popcorn and an equivalent of a gallon of water, with a clear intention of bringing
them along. This is the child that likes
to be prepared for every eventuality.
Absolutely no popcorn
and no dragging a barrel of water with you. If you need water, they will have
disposable cups along the way. You are not going to die of either hunger or
thirst. We’ll have the BBQ at the end. I
add compassionately, wondering where I went wrong in all my years of
parenting.
Finally making it to the START line, socks and shoes on,
popcorn bags discarded, we catch the last few chords of national anthem.
And
then, we are on!
We don’t want to get trampled by the 5k buffs averaging a mile
in 72 seconds, so we hold back and let
the real runners go ahead of us. We
stick somewhat together for the first 30 feet.
From there on, it’s one steady unraveling after another.
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