#2’s Big Night

Oh, and I forgot to tell you about the poetry competition. #2 managed to mug one of the other kids and nab his blazer and although it was a teeny bit big for him, he scrubbed up quite well: hair combed (oh yes, once a year whether it needs it or not), nice white shirt, lovingly ironed, and tie a bit wonky but never mind. He did very well actually, he spoke loudly and confidently and remembered all his poem.

We, on the other hand, were rather fatigued after listening to the first round of the senior cup, where they all read a set piece (oh yes, all fifteen of them), and then to the tiddlers doing their stuff in the junior cup, then the second round of the seniors where they had to read an unseen piece. This proved rather difficult for some of them and there were some unintentionally amusing moments where, struggling to read a word they just tailed off, like children do, and carried on as though nothing had happened. Having heard the same piece several times, we became used to them all having a valiant go at pronouncing ‘arthritic’ and settling for ‘ar…art…arthrmmphh’ before moving on to the next word, hoping nobody had noticed.

It was good though, #2 came a very respectable third, which was pretty good out of about fifteen children, many a good bit older than him. Hubby and I clapped and cheered when his name was read out, and the little chap beamed with pride. Both the senior and junior winners were worthy of their huge, shiny cups, carried with pride into the big hall afterwards where we all had mulled wine or orange juice and toasted our bottoms by the huge fire. Very successful. #2, for his part, grinned like a Cheshire cat all the way home, and so he should do.

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