Toby's class had a race today, and mom and I went to go watch him. Dad stayed at home to "stay updated on the meteor." You'd think he'd want to ignore that for a while to see his little boy run what would probably be the last race he'd ever run, but I guess not.
When the starter gun was fired, Toby started crying because he thought it was a real gun, and collapsed on the ground sobbing. I ran over and picked him up, carrying him to the finish line. We won first, but we were disqualified because apparently it was cheating for me to do that, even though Toby was just scared that one of his friends had gotten shot because they tripped and fell over.
The kid who "actually" won first place came over to me after the race as I was consoling Toby, took off his ribbon, and stuck it on Toby's shirt.
Sometimes I'm upset that the world is going to end.