Sporttag

The kids have been anticipating today for weeks: Ella, excitedly; Alex, anxiously. After being rained out last week, today, at last, was the annual Sporttag for Ella's and Alex's schools.

The team lists for Sporttag had been posted for a couple of weeks in the elementary school gym. There were all of 26 groups, and no classmates had been paired; rather, the teams spanned the grades and the classrooms.  I was under the impression that Alex's class, too, was divided into these teams, and that he'd be experiencing Sport Day along with Ella and the big kids.

Ella was very enthusiastic about spending a day playing outside with the big kids: she knows that most of the oldest kids at her school are really nice and that all of them are happy to practice their English with her.

Alex, however, was less than excited about having an out-of-the-ordinary day. "Mom, I don't like these days when everything is different and I have to watch everyone else carefully so that I don't mess up."  It was, however, a slight comfort to him that there was a 1 in 26 chance that he'd be on a team with his Ella.

After covering them with sunblock and packing a sack lunch (for this is the first day all year that Ella won't be coming home at lunchtime), I walked Alex in to school, and there I learned that the area Kindergartens would be instead be combining to have their own separate field games. Alex's relief was palpable.

After about an hour, Joey and I walked up to the schools to see what we could see. At Ella's school, Küngenmatt, the schoolyards were swarming with groups of children were playing make-shift games: knocking down tin-can pyramids with softballs, racing with potato sacks, running obstacle courses, wobbling on stilts, carrying eggs on spoons.

And throwing pine cones into boxes

Ella spotted us first and came hurtling towards us from the rope-jumping station, her eyes shining: "Mom, our team is unlucky 13, but we're actually really lucky and the kids on my team are amazing! There's one boy who can jump rope so fast that you can't even see the rope!"  She went on to tell me about her favorite races, the ones where the big kids had to carry the littler ones around: "Mom, it was so funny! The girl who was trying to carry me is almost as big as me, so I tried to convince her to let me carry her, instead! But I think I'm doing really well, and I'm trying so hard!"

A water carrying obstacle course.  Here, Ella's trying to teach
Joey to cheer for Team 13.  But he kept yelling "Go 4!"
purposely making all the kids on Ella's team laugh.

Joey and I followed Ella's team around for a little while, and it warmed my heart to see how the older kids were taking care of my daughter, making sure she knew where she was supposed to go, checking to see if she'd remembered her water, smiling at her and asking her if she was having fun.  And, oh, she was!

When the kids were sent inside to have a snack and some water, Joey and I scooted one field up to see how Alex's morning was going.

The kindergartners were on the big municipal soccer field, divided into just four stations: rope-jumping, a little obstacle course, soccer, and a ball toss.  When I showed up, Alex was over at the last of these, and for fifteen minutes I watched an obedient little line of Kindergartners rotate through to take their turn throwing a ball in the box.  Honestly, it didn't look like much fun to me, but those teachers clearly know something I don't: Alex was having a blast.

And then Alex's teacher blew her whistle, and things got interesting: Alex's group switched over to the soccer station.  I was absolutely fascinated by the teacher (or father, I'm not sure which) who was in charge, but he did a magnificent job with the kids, essentially teaching them the game in fifteen minutes. For, although this is Europe, it soon became clear that the rest of the kids were no better at this sport than Alex.  But they ran back and forth across the field in their enthusiastic little swarm, and Alex even scored the one goal his team made.  The funniest thing is, I don't even think he realized he was the one who did scored.

That soccer game was the end of the day for Alex.  The teachers called all of the children together for a little closing, in which Alex's teacher said something encouraging and then released the official Sporttag balloon.  Again, these teachers know something I don't: launching a single balloon at the end of a field day would never have occurred to me, but it made a huge impression on Alex.  Somehow, the little ceremony gave the morning a feeling of gravitas.

Alex went back to his classroom for another half-hour, and Joey and I went home to wait for him.  When he came home, he was wearing a shiny brass participation medal.  Joey noticed it immediately and shouted "WOAH!" to Alex's absolute delight.

Because Ella wasn't coming home for lunch, I brought the boys to Google to eat with Dennis. Alex dearly wanted to wear his medal there so that he could show his daddy.  "Do you think he'll be proud of me for working so hard?" Alex asked me, hopefully.

Well, of course!

And do you know what made him, and me, prouder still? Dennis's supervisor, whom I hadn't yet met, was alone in the lunchroom, so Dennis brought us over to meet and eat with him.  And we had the most delightful time: thank goodness, the boys were absolute angels.

Ella got home just a little after we did, and she, too, was so proud of Alex and his medal. Dennis's boss told us that, in England, they're switching to America's "everyone wins" model, and I was curious to see if Ella would come home with some sort of prize as well.  But no, in her school, there was only one team victorious.  But everyone got popsicles, and that was awesome enough, in Ella's eyes.

After a long day in the sun, everyone wanted to stay in this afternoon, and Ella offered to finally give me my big Mother's Day bash.

Ella was the perfect hostess: she'd apparently been saving chocolate for weeks so that she would have favors and prizes to give us. She sang me songs and put on her puppet show, and then she gave me what was, perhaps, my favorite gift: she helped me clean up her room completely, so that I can finally walk around without crunching seashells or hopping over boxes.

Although, tonight, as I was tying up the cardboard remains of Ella's party for recycling, I felt kind of sad.  It probably won't be for much longer that little Ella will want to go to such extravagant lengths to treat me and please me and show me she loves me.

Although she is a pretty affectionate little girl.  She told me that, when her teacher asked the class what nice things they could get their mothers, Ella suggested "hugs and kisses?"  The rest of the class responded with an exaggerated "Ewwww!" Which inspired Ella to ask, "Mom? Do you think we hug and kiss too much in our family?"  And, when she saw my look of surprise, she grinned. "I don't either."  And then she gave me a one of each.

Best. Mother's. Day. Ever.