Today I finish work early to go fulfil my duties as an enthusiastic parent at Jack’s nursery sports day.

It will have, I’m told, an Olympic nursery rhyme theme. As far as I understand, the events will resemble Olympic track and field (hurdles, high jump, discus) but will be conducted in the style of well known nursery rhymes.

I’m quite looking forward to it, if I’m honest. But it’s clear I’m not looking forward to it as much as Jack is.

He hasn’t stopped asking when sports day is for the last two months, and whatever the answer, he always convinced it’s happening tomorrow, “after just one more sleep”.

Of course, I’m very pleased my son has a boundless, stomp-on-the-spot-with-excitement enthusiasm for exercise. I’d be distraught if I’d somehow raised a couch potato.

But I can’t quite see what Jack is so excited about. He knows it will be done in front of a sizeable crowd of other parents, children and teachers. Jack comes over all coy when confronted with a crowd of three people – God knows what he’ll be like in front of a crowd of 100 or so.

We found out yesterday that Jack is taking part in two ‘track’ events – over the candlestick hurdles, and the Jack and Jill bucket pale race. We’ve already had a practice session in the living room, using a real (unlit) candle and an empty milk cup to mimic the equipment set to be used in the real event.

I have visions of Jack standing, frozen to the spot on the start line in awe and fear of the surrounding, screaming crowd of children, teachers and parents.

Either that or he’ll end up running towards me and mum on the sidelines rather than down the track with the other kids.