No More Rugby

We’re done. The teams have gone home, the flags are coming down, It’s all over bar the parading round the countryside with the Webb Ellis trophy.

But there are lasting effects from watching rugby with a small child hovering around. Petra’s not particularly interested in the game itself, and I don’t blame her – 30 guys running around a paddock after an oval ball and periodically banging into each other and falling over is not the most thrilling sight ever. But she was very intrigued by the haka and the singing of the various national anthems. She’s been practicing her haka. I chant the words to the Ka Mate haka (I had to google them, but I pretty much know them off by heart now) while Petra and Travis line up, slap their thighs and arms, and look as fierce as they can. We also sing the New Zealand and Canadian anthems as part of our show.

It’s fun doing events with a preschooler because she’s so enthusiastic and keen to try things out that we end up doing things that we wouldn’t bother doing otherwise, jaded and aged as we are. We’ve spent the last few weeks driving around with a flag flapping on our car because Petra thought that would be cool – not something I would have done on my own account.

And I was surprised at how pleased and relieved I was when the All Blacks won the final. The players were so exhausted and so excited, and the crowd was just delirious. It was fun to get swept along on the wave of fervour.

Cory Jane and Israel Dagg making angels in the confetti after the RWC final

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