Her Daddy’s last words to her were “Don’t stop running.”
And she didn’t. Even after crossing the finish line.
It was a 50 foot dash. But Prairie, with a gang of other 5- and 6-year-olds trailing, ran over 600 feet before her Daddy and a dozen other spectators were able to chase her down and stop her.
Sid carried his stout-hearted warrior princess back. She was looking a little fearful, obviously uncertain about why so many people had been yelling at her to stop.
Even the smiles and encouragement from siblings and strangers alike did not completely reassure her of her awesomeness.
Sid, being the mult-tasking, super-efficient businessman that he is, took a business call while retrieving his daughter back to the rules and confines of the 50-foot dash.
But the excitement wasn’t over for Prairie. Nor was the pressure. The pressure of grown-up rules and expectations.
The little runner needed a bathroom break. A simple request — IF the bathroom had not been across a long field and up a very, very steep hill. Prairie half-ran and was half-dragged by her supportive mother across the field. They huffed and puffed up the hill. At the bathroom entrance, the little sprout fell, slamming her knee on the concrete.
Whimpering and trying to examine her knee for blood, Prairie listened to her mother brush off the injury and suffered to be rushed through her bathroom break.
Then Sid’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Hurry up! It is time for Prairie’s next race.”
“Go to Daddy! Go!” says the mother. She knew she could not get Prairie to the starting line in time. It must be Daddy who makes the dash, carrying Prairie in his arms.
All the other children were lined up, ready to go. Those spectators nearest the starting line knew why the judges were waiting and shouted, “Go, Daddy, go!”
With a scratch on her knee and still winded from her race to the bathroom, Prairie held it together, ran her 100 -foot dash and claimed a blue ribbon.
Then she fell apart.
Mama, still breathing hard and suffering chest pains, got there in time to offer comfort.
Ah, the things a mother suffers through gracefully and without complaint. Blogging, after the fact, doesn’t count as complaining, does it?
All the children ran in their first “official” races at the Homeschool Field Day. I am so proud of the way they jumped in and had fun.
My Rachel Bree on the right.
Lincoln is wearing the blue shorts and grey shirt.
Sidney is on the far right and his good friend, Will is in the lead on the left.
Overall, it was a relaxing, picnic-enjoying, sun-burning day. We are all ready to do it again next year.
She got up the next morning, and said, “Mama, can we do field day today?”