My son acting like a king at his first sports day and the argument we had

My son Fukutaro (pseudonym), who has Down syndrome, is turning four and facing his first-ever sports day.
Under a clear, cloudless sky, my husband and I went to watch our son's first sports day.
In the beautiful, clear blue sky, there were cirrocumulus clouds that hinted at the coming of autumn.
It was the perfect day for a sports day, with colorful Anpanman flags fluttering busily.

The spectator seating area was divided into small sections, each with a number assigned to it.
It seems the system is that the children draw lots, and the parents sit in the seat corresponding to that number.

My son actually drew number 3, which was quite a prime spot.
According to his nursery school teacher, seat number 3 is a spot where you can see my son's race right in front of you.
My son has luck with lotteries. No doubt about it.
Since he was born, our family's luck with lotteries has clearly improved.
That is why we sometimes call him 'Fukutaro-kun' (Lucky Boy).

Looking back, since the beginning of summer, my son started striking a strange pose in front of us.
It is close to Arale-chan's 'keen' pose.
He does it with great energy, a quick 'shuba!'

What was that all of a sudden?
Even if I wanted to ask, my son cannot speak yet.
However, he would perform it frequently without any context, and on top of that, after the 'keen' pose, he would strike a smug look that was beyond words.

I don't really get it, but it's cute regardless.
Every time he did that pose and gave us that smug look, my husband and I would applaud him grandly and cheer him on.

I learned later that it was a pose they were practicing at nursery school to perform at the sports day.

Having drawn a prime seat where we could see our son's race and his signature pose right in front of us, we were suddenly very motivated.
To record our son's heroic figure perfectly on the day, we had a perfect division of labor: I was the photographer, and my husband was the videographer.

The parents were more nervous than the kids, and neither my husband nor I could sleep well before the morning arrived.
Our son was in a great mood.
The time for the big event had come.
When we arrived at the nursery school full of enthusiasm, we immediately realized we had forgotten something important.
Chairs.
We even forgot the leisure sheet. We had nothing.
The ground was, yes, gravel.

We had a huge argument about whether to go back and get them, and for the first time in a while, the atmosphere became hostile.
By the way, I was the one who insisted on going back to get them.
My husband was the one who stubbornly refused to go back.
His argument was, 'We're parked in a line, so we can't get out anymore. We can just use the cushions from the car seats as mats.'

In a tense, volatile atmosphere, we sat in seat number 3 and placed the cushions on the ground.
Looking around, everyone else had brought folding chairs.
There were some groups with leisure sheets, but not many.
As we were whispering and arguing intensely, the couple in the number 2 seat next to us said they had forgotten both their mats and chairs entirely.

Now, what are they going to do!! Is war about to start?!
As I held my breath and listened to the conversation next to us, the wife said nonchalantly,
'Well, oh well. It can't be helped!'
Having been shown such overwhelming magnanimity, I had no choice but to suppress my anger for the time being.
In the first place, I was the one in charge of preparing the chairs, which meant the fault was mine.

The neighbors seemed to be the type to set up a video camera on a tripod and cheer for their child.
They were serious about this too.

My son walked along, holding his teacher's hand, at the very end of the line as the children entered for the march.
'Oh...'
I let out a soundless voice, snapping photos while crouching, and my husband was filming video while crouching just the same.

While the children were doing lively gymnastics to the upbeat music, my son was happily marching in place.
Although he completely ignored the choreography, his steps in time with the rhythm were solid.
Every now and then, he would flutter his hands, looking like he was feeling the music with his whole body.
The first gymnastics routine was longer than expected, and while marching, my son gradually drifted out of his line and joined the next one, but that was fine too.

In the nerve-wracking race, the children go in pairs for the 'ready, set, go.'
According to prior information from the nursery teacher, the probability of my son not refusing to walk and crossing the finish line is about 40%, which is quite a hard mode.

My son came out alongside a boy of similar build.
My husband and I swallowed hard in silence (by the way, the hostile mood was still continuing, so we hadn't spoken a word during this time).
When the teacher called their names, they were supposed to answer in a loud voice and then start.

'Fukutaro-kun!'
With anticipation and anxiety, we waited for my son's 'Haaai.' (According to the teacher's prior information, the success rate for answering was over 90%)
'...'

The teacher called his name again.
'Fukutaro-kun!'
'...'
My son!!
You were answering with a huge smile at home, weren't you!!

In the end, we couldn't show off my son's response.
Oh... I wanted the other parents to hear my son's cute voice too...!

As for the race, he was led by the hand by the teacher, and he walked calmly across the finish line without showing any signs of being in a hurry.
What is the point of comparing yourself to others?
In this small Japan, where are you rushing to?
He had such a noble air that it felt like you could hear that slogan.

And after that, in all the events, my son stubbornly refused to answer, and to our surprise, he didn't even show off that wonderful signature pose once.

Noble people are generally at their own pace and whimsical.
We are just left to be swayed by the smiles and surprises he offers on his own whims.

My son participated in all the events wonderfully, and perhaps because his nervousness had worn off by the end, he clapped along with those around him, and in the end, he even bowed along with everyone else.

My son's bow!!!!
My husband and I were so excited we almost had a nosebleed, snapping photos like crazy while crouching.

I wouldn't say I was overcome with emotion at my son's first sports day, but I was certainly entertained enough.
It's not that I don't have a desire to see my child's growth, but that is just a selfish expectation of a parent, and the child is under no obligation to meet it.

Parents are simply there to be grateful for, rejoice in, or be saddened by every move the child whimsically chooses to show us or not.

By the way, my husband and I reconciled during the break.
"Look, you're wearing pants, so sitting on a cushion on the ground is fine for you, but I'm wearing a skirt, even if it is long. Try sitting on the ground with your legs stretched straight out. Experience for yourself how tough that is."

I will say it again: it was I who forgot the chairs in the first place.

My husband reluctantly sat down with his legs stretched straight out in front of him.
"Yes! You have to sit like that for the rest of the time!"
"Why?!"
"Just because!"

After that ridiculous exchange, we finally reached a reconciliation, but now that the sports day is over, there is one thing that worries me.

The video camera set up in the second seat next to us was on the entire time.

If that high-performance camera picked up the audio of our entire exchange...
The thought alone gives me chills, so I've decided to stop thinking about it.