Hahahahaha....

Harry had sports day today and just to set the scene, last year he was so last in the sack race that he stepped out of his sack with a big grin on his face and hurled the sack over the finishing line. About 20 minutes after everyone else had crossed it.

But he's been practicing.

And this year, this year he came first in the running race, first in the egg and spoon and second in the sack race!

Oh, but how I cheered for him as he was doing them all - I didn't know I cared so much about whether he won or lost. My throat is sore now from screaming, "Come ON Harry!" so much.

Hmmm.

So anyway, I was going to write this: To be fair to myself I wanted him to win so that he would be proud of himself. But actually in retrospect, that can't be true.

Because, you see, he's so zen that he doesn't care whether he wins or loses. He says, "Well I tried my bestest, and that's what matters Mummy."

So I must have wanted him to win for me...

Which is weird.

Just call me competitive Mum.