Diaper dash

The Boy ran his first race today, a 100-yard Diaper Dash. He took it very seriously. (That's the husband running behind The Boy. As my mom said, I'm not sure whose expression makes me smile more.)

He looked so big running, his eyes fixed on the finish line. He got there and looked lost as he tried to find me or the husband. I was going to say he turned back into my little toddler in that instant, but thinking about it now, I remember friends in high school having that same expression at track meets -- exhausted, excited and looking around for their parents, the people they know are just as happy as they are about a good race.

He finished in second place, not that it really mattered. He clutched that ribbon so tight, it's still all crumply and wrinkly, hanging on his closet door.

The Lad and I watched. He wasn't quite sure why everyone was so excited, but enjoyed the clapping. He also enjoyed the free post-race cookies. He enjoyed them so much, he turned the umbrella stroller over on top of himself trying to climb out of it and up my leg to get another oatmeal raisin morsel.