For my eight year old, the new school year brings a number of things. Most importantly, it’s the year she is finally allowed to sign up for school sports and clubs.

Last Friday, the primary grades presented the first opportunity for her to add her name to a growing list of eager newbies and held their first cross country running practice.

Ellie brought running gear to school, extra water, terry-cloth head and wristbands, GPS watch, FitBit with heart monitor, extra shoe laces should a random dog shred hers. You get the idea, she was ready.

Somehow the announcement for the cross country practice was missed and/or Ellie interpreted the announcement to mean “over the lunch recess” and not “the second the bell rings for the lunch break” because she missed her first ever school-related extracurricular activity and it nearly ruined my her weekend.

The end of school day pick-up is often a blur but Friday’s was a gong show.

I couldn’t ask the kids about their day because the only words I could hear were, “Hanna! You have to tell me when cross country is.” “You have to tell me and you have to come to my class and get me.” “Hanna has to come and tell me when cross country is, Mom.” “She has to come and get me.” “You need to send a note.” “Send a note with Hanna and Chloe too just as back-up.”

Ellie: Mom, I asked my teacher to tell me when cross country was. (I have no doubt) I was ready and when I got outside (homemade athlete sign-in clip-board and number taped to her pinny) it was over.

I tried to explain that she could go to the next practice.

Ellie: It’s probably too late. I probably can’t join now.

Of course you can, you just show up. They’re always looking for willing athletes who see running as fun and not torturous.

Ellie: ?

So yesterday I arrived at the school on unrelated-to-cross-country school business (I had to take Hanna to the Optometrist) and I noticed a kid who resembled Ellie bent over to tie her shoes while other kids lightly jogged past while visiting with friends and talking about the beautiful weather we were having.

Then Ellie stood up, looked over and noticed me and sprinted like there was a firecracker in her pants past me as fast as her legs would carry her.

I waved and said, “Hi Ellie” but she took off like a shot. A true runner has no time for Mommies.

I smiled happy she had figured out when the practice was but when I turned around she was doubled over at the waist, likely looking for the most polite way to vomit in front of her peers.

Way to give it your all Ellie. I’m pretty sure she misinterpreted cross country for rapid-sprints. She was clearly making up for the missed practice.