The goobers of summer
April 12, 2007
So Raphael’s playing T-ball now, did I mention? It’s amazing to me how the addition of two evening activities a week can completely throw a home into chaos. Fortunately for all, there has been rain or snow Every Single Thursday since T-ball started, so we’ve missed out on all the Thursday practices. Unfortunately, the coach is insane, and thinks we should therefore have practice on Sunday to make up.
*blink, blink*
These are 5 and 6 year old kids. There is simply no need to get carried away with the practice. Practice is not going to change the facts.
And what ARE the facts, you ask?
Well, at the very first game, when Raphael was first up to bat, he dutifully hit the ball and scurried to first base. When the next kid swatted the ball, the coach yelled at Raphi to run, and he did. Right on down the first base line. Out into the outfield and perhaps on to Kansas if he hadn’t been chased down by Clay.
There is one boy whose clear ambition in life is to be a dancer. While the game wends its illogical way around him, he prances around, pirouettes, pounds out a rhythm on his butt, and drops to one knee for the finale. Once he was doing jazz hands and accidentally caught a ball. His dad was thrilled.
Another little boy was standing on third base, waiting for his turn to run home, when he started poking himself enthusiastically in the groin. I remembered Max’s team last year, how they were all required to wear cups, and responded with much concentrated knocking upon their jewels at first, until they got used to them. I turned around to the boy’s parents.
“Oh, did you get him a cup?” I asked knowingly.
“No,” they muttered, their faces buried in their hands.
Raphael takes the time-honored game of T-ball very very seriously. He actually pays attention to what’s going on, and has a fevered desire to catch the ball. This led to the following exchange on the way home from last night’s game:
Clay: Hey, good job out there tonight, buddy.
Raphael: Yes, I know.
Clay: I really like the way you hustle to get the ball. Only…you really aren’t allowed to kick people in baseball. Especially your own team members.
Raphael: It was my ball.
Clay: I know. Still.
And this – THIS is the crew that the coach thinks should practice more. I can’t imagine why.
They’re already super stars.
He looks like Clay in that picture!
Posted by: studly steele | April 12, 2007 at 10:30 PM
Minus the teeth issue of course.
Posted by: studly steele | April 12, 2007 at 10:33 PM
And it seems like just yesterday he was declaring "AH'M GONNA DIE!" ;)
Posted by: Mir | April 13, 2007 at 05:17 AM
Ki, you are truly blessed! All your boys are adorable!
Posted by: Monetvalley | April 13, 2007 at 08:44 AM
Too cute! My 4 yr old is playing his first season of tball. The first game he hit the ball and was tagged on his way to home plate. Ever since he intentionally hit the tee instead of the ball simple because he does not want to get tageed out, by the boy with "red cheeks".
Posted by: Steff | April 13, 2007 at 09:05 AM
Yeah they do get carried away with practice. Kaylie has softball practice three evenings a week for an hour. UGH Practice has been rained out a few times and we haven't let her go a few times cause its been too darn cold but they haven't requested they make it up on the weekends.
Posted by: Anne | April 13, 2007 at 03:12 PM
OH hahaha... I just almost spit hot coffee all over my laptop. "Once he was doing jazz hands and accidentally caught a ball. His dad was thrilled."
We start soccer next week (second year) and t-ball the week after (first year). That's Monday to Thursday taken up... and then I was really dumb and put my son in Gymnastics. This shall forever be known as The Year I Overscheduled, Overcommitted and Went Insane.
Posted by: Serenity Now! | April 21, 2007 at 03:09 PM