Interpretive t-ball
Last Thursday was day two of t-ball. I can hear what you're thinking already - "Is she really going to post something about t-ball twice a week until the end of July? Could there possibly be that much to say about a five year old in t-ball?" I don't know. I don't THINK I will, but really, it's hard to say. I MIGHT. Especially when I think you know just how RIVETING t-ball can be.
For example, last week I caught a great shot of Martin learning how to play right field. Intuitively, the coach must have known that it was his LEGACY to be in right field. After all, it was where I was first able to exhibit my own natural athletic ability.
And without even telling him, he did just what I used to do in right field. Except here in this shot he's waving at his pals instead of trying to keep the bugs away from his head.
Then, it was his turn at bat. He took a few swings and finally connected.
He was so proud of his accomplishment that he took his new pal The Bat all the way to first.
Once at first, he obtained his first minor injury when he lightly skinned his knee in the dirt. After he fell off the base when his base spinning and dancing became too wild.
From the side of the field, Marty and I chatted about Martin and his athletic abilities. Marty talked about how he would work with Martin on the game, help him understand the rules, and practice catching and throwing. I told him that I thought that would all be good, but that we also ought to be really proud of the really nice sand drawings he made with his glove that night in the infield dirt.
Correction from previous entry: In the first entry I posted about Martin's t-ball career, I reminisced about my own illustrious athletic past. In the entry, I said that the head of the t-ball program would yell at me to "look ready". But last week, as I listened to the other people, I remembered what he actually said was "look ALIVE" which strikes me as all the more funny. I remember at the time that phrase making me want to actually die, and if someone were to say it to me now I'm sure I'd stare at them with eye-bugging fervor - that kind that drips with sarcasm as it silently says SEE ME, I'M TOTALLY ALIVE. BLINKING. AND JUST STARING AT YOU. Because that's just how much I've grown in the past thirty years.
For example, last week I caught a great shot of Martin learning how to play right field. Intuitively, the coach must have known that it was his LEGACY to be in right field. After all, it was where I was first able to exhibit my own natural athletic ability.
And without even telling him, he did just what I used to do in right field. Except here in this shot he's waving at his pals instead of trying to keep the bugs away from his head.
Then, it was his turn at bat. He took a few swings and finally connected.
He was so proud of his accomplishment that he took his new pal The Bat all the way to first.
Once at first, he obtained his first minor injury when he lightly skinned his knee in the dirt. After he fell off the base when his base spinning and dancing became too wild.
From the side of the field, Marty and I chatted about Martin and his athletic abilities. Marty talked about how he would work with Martin on the game, help him understand the rules, and practice catching and throwing. I told him that I thought that would all be good, but that we also ought to be really proud of the really nice sand drawings he made with his glove that night in the infield dirt.
Correction from previous entry: In the first entry I posted about Martin's t-ball career, I reminisced about my own illustrious athletic past. In the entry, I said that the head of the t-ball program would yell at me to "look ready". But last week, as I listened to the other people, I remembered what he actually said was "look ALIVE" which strikes me as all the more funny. I remember at the time that phrase making me want to actually die, and if someone were to say it to me now I'm sure I'd stare at them with eye-bugging fervor - that kind that drips with sarcasm as it silently says SEE ME, I'M TOTALLY ALIVE. BLINKING. AND JUST STARING AT YOU. Because that's just how much I've grown in the past thirty years.
That could be my boy out there playing t-ball, except he'd be making dirt piles on the ground.
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