On Saturday morning I took Minnie to ballet class for the first time. She was a bit hesitant at first but joined in with the other girls after a while. I watched her from afar and had one of the lump-in-throat moments you get as a parent.
Later on the same day we went in to town to get Felix his first school uniform for when he starts in September (another tear-inducing time in life). While in town we passed a make-shift running track in Slab Square (something to do with the Olympics next year) and asked Felix if he wanted a go. Here he is in his race.
Felix is in the far lane. He's the youngest in the race and, understandably, comes last. Still, it makes me feel so proud watching this. I never thought I'd feel so proud watching a child of mine lose at something, but it's the fact he took part. The fact he didn't quit. The fact he stuck to his lane till the end. The fact he lost with dignity. In fact I'm not even sure he saw it as losing. To him, like they say, it was all about the taking part.
Karen maintains that I'm overly-competitive, but I'm not. I do like to add a sense of competition to things (there's no point to games or sport if there's no competition!), but I like to think I lose well. And that's what I want to teach the kids -- how to lose with dignity and - most importantly - have fun.