It's been awhile...

But after basketball season, we had Field Day. It was months ago, but I've only been able to think about it recently. It was a hard day, and it took its toll on both mother and child. There were several events held that day and I am happy to report that there were no impromtu visits to the hospital that day. No injuries.

The thing about injuries is this (and, in a way, I am grateful): It's super hard to sustain an injury at Field Day whilst not actively participating in any of the typical events. The morning of the big day, we loaded up the little one with sunscreen and potassium in order to give her an edge against the heat. We laced up the shoes, braided the hair, and set off.

The Hannimal and I arrived right after the softball throw was complete (it was the only event that I missed) and saw a kid being hauled away in tears with some ice on his head. To my great relief, my little sportstress was not the cause of this debacle. As a matter of fact, as I found out later, the ball she threw did not come close to hitting a child...and in all actuality, to say that the ball was "thrown" by her is really a misnomer. Her teacher told me that this event was not Jenna's best. But no worries - we had many more events to go.

However, after being relieved that Jenna did not hit the kid in the head with the ball, I realized that Jenna was very upset because she did not throw the ball very far. It was a strange moment for me, because it actually seemed as if she cared about being competitive. I was sad for her, yet elated in a way because I thought, perhaps, this might be the catalyst by which to garner some athletic interest.

You see where this is going, right?

Next up was the relay race, the 30 yard dash, and the long jump. The relay race was a complete disaster. I believe I've mentioned before that Jenna's love for running is rather non-existent. She walked it. She started out running; however, they were running in groups of five, and the four went ahead of her so fast that she just decided to walk. It was awesome.

As far as the next event is concerned, we can call it a "dash" all we want, but there was no dashing. There was very little that could be considered walking quickly; however, there was much that could be called drudgery and, perhaps, slow motion. The girl just wasn't feeling it.

After the first three events, we were ready for lunch. The littlest sportstress was overcome with competing in this event. She had a hot dog, a bag of chips, two bags of cookies, and a sprite. The girl just needed some fuel, that's all. So, while she was carb loading in preparation for the last event of the day, The Hannimal and I sat with her and then were very surprised to see Coach Daddy arrive for a pep talk! It was in the cards. Jenna was primed for the long jump. She's all leg, so we were fairly confident that this might just be her event.

4'3"

Not bad. Not bad, indeed.

Even the judges were impressed. Wait. That's not right.

The judges were using positive reinforcement to stop her from playing in the sand. It seems that sand is a very powerful force to a six year old. In the same way that women, once a month, are drawn to cheesecake like a moth to a flame, a large pile of sand is simply irresistible and renders children deaf to adults trying to lure them out. It cannot be done.

That's not entirely true. Mothers know that there exists on this planet only one force stronger than the pull of sand.

As Jenna explained her sadness at not having won an event to me, I explained to her about my Field Day days. It seems that, as a child, my athleticism was similar to Jenna's. I was generally average - not noteworthy; however, there was one event in which I received a blue ribbon every single year. And I was pretty sure that the last event of the day would not only be Jenna's blue ribbon event, but that she would have the fire in her belly necessary to achieve mightily.

That event, ladies and gentleman, is The Snowcone Challenge.

She came, she saw, she conquered.

That snowcone didn't stand a chance with my baby.

Until next time, always remember, "One man's relay race is another girl's snowcone."