I woke up early on Wednesday morning having slept well. I made Oscar and my breakfasts and lunches and sat down with him at the table - he read Joe Lion's magic Boots whilst sipping an apple juice and I had a coffee and read the paper. The sun was shining and we discussed Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and what causes Tornadoes. A normal Wednesday school day for us. Then I remembered it was his school sports day.

Last year was cancelled three times due to rain. This year it was game on. Oscar's training had gone well - but he was worried that Ben would beat him in both the egg and spoon and the sprint. I reassured him that as long as he tried his hardest and didn't give up I be proud of him. I tried to explain that should it happen he should be magnanimous in defeat - he asked me whether that was a dinosaur. I told him that he stood a good chance of doing well (i.e. winning) if he got a good start and looked straight ahead rather than at the side.

I have got into trouble before at my niece’s first sports day - when aged 2 I encouraged her to win. I don't think this is the place for me to air my views on the non-competitiveness of children's sports. Maybe in a few years.

Fast forward to half past one. The air was still. Conditions were favourable. The ground was firm but not too hard. The classes walked out and warmed up with obstacle events (non-competitive) bean bag throwing (bit more competitive) and a deadly game of human croquet where if the ball went through your legs you were out - how elitist?!?!

On to the main events - first up the egg and spoon. Oscar was in the last heat. Lined up against Ben, both had a bad start by dropping the egg. They recovered well and progressed nicely down the track - neck and neck. Half way down Ben dropped his egg and rather than looking to his side Oscar carried on and took the win. Get in! Ben didn't look happy, but Oscar didn't rub it in.
Next was the sprint. The crowd went silent, I was shaking. The whistle went and off the set. 5 six year olds matching each other stride for stride. But two were pulling ahead. Ben slightly in front then Oscar half a yard behind. Being a bit stockier than Oscar (let's face it anyone who has met him would know that Oscar is not the stockiest boy around) Ben edged away and won by a yard or so with Oscar second. Oscar didn't look too disappointed and as I said I would be I was so proud.

So onto the parents’ races. The last time I took part in something like this was the staff vs. parents football match at my mum's school. I was on the staff side and have never been so scared or intimidated in my life. Until this moment. Lined up against some solid dad's in jeans and shirts I thought they stood no chance. I was in trainers and shorts (having come from work......not taking it that seriously). The whistle went and straight away I was behind. 1 meter, 2 meters. They were going full bore. Proper gurning and grunting. It wasn't as if I wasn't trying. I just had nothing compared to these 20 meter sprinting machines. I came in fifth. Maybe I should have joined them in doing a proper warm up.

Oscar was devastated - his mum had at least come on the podium. But I was nowhere. Sunday's victory was a distant memory and he made me promise that next year I will train specifically for the Dad's 20 meter blast.

This is going to cost me a lot of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle cards I feel.