We’ve had interesting conversations about the value of earning a medal in our household this week, as T has just earned her very first medal for completing a four-month gymnastics course.
Families were invited to watch a display on the final week (normally B and I hang out with all the nannies, coats and strollers until class is finished). C left work early specially, and B was bursting with excitement to finally watch T on the trampoline, bars and floor. At the end of the display, each gymnast was called to jump up onto a box, arms raised, and receive a medal. B begged for a turn. The coach agreed, so B clambered up onto the box, raised her arms, and beamed expectantly. Nothing happened. “But where is my medal?” she called reproachfully.
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