A new season is upon us. And if you think I'm talking about Spring, think again. I mean Baseball. It's practice time all the time. I think I should have made sure we had two boys in close succession, just to spare Joe and I all the batting and pitching and catching we have to do. Why did I not think this all out carefully nine years ago? No, no...I really don't mind helping Sam practice...mostly because it's Joe who is the preferred partner in all this baseballness.
I get the biggest kick out of how much Sam adores playing baseball. He loves the stats and the pace of the game. He is beginning to understand the strategies behind the plays and it's like someone's taught him a secret code. I'm constantly being barraged by "Mumma, if there's someone at second (first, third, bases loaded, bases empty) and the ball is hit to you...do you know where you should throw the ball?" He takes charge out on the field, keeping track of strikes, balls and outs. He pesters the coach to play positions that are still beyond him right now. He is beginning to like the little boy heaven, otherwise known as the dugout. It's noisy, it's dirty and everyone sits really close together but he's more and more at home there each year. He shines when he's hailed the hero by his teammates when he brings a glove full of bubblegum for the whole team. I'm starting to realize, the kid I think of as not very athletic, is actually a pretty good baseball player. I never thought I'd say this, but oh, how I LOVE little league baseball.
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