Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Yesterday, the boys and I played baseball. Because I had a board meeting for my chorus, I hadn't been planning on coming home for dinner. The Wife, therefore, decided to meet Grandma and Grandpa for dinner. I got done with work stuff earlier than expected, so I went over to Grandma's house. Dinner wasn't ready yet, so I played outside with the boys. There's three or four wiffle bats outside, but no wiffle balls; instead, we used a big Batman ball (one of those light, plastic balls around the size of a bowling ball that you see in huge racks in the toy store), which the boys had a much easier time hitting. We took some batting practice, which included The Baby: I showed him how to hold the bat and swung with him, hitting at the balls on the ground. He doesn't quite get the hitting thing yet, but he sure enjoyed doing it. The Boy, who was drawing pictures inside, came outside when we were starting to play. We set up bases, and The Boy was entranced with normal wiffle ball bases: an extra bat was first base, a bubble wand was 2nd base, the batting tee was 3rd base, and a hula hoop was home plate. He hit a couple and ran around the bases, yelling "Home Run!" We played "peg the runner" rules. I hit a good one, right at an entering Grandpa, who proceeded to peg me right in the forehead. Out! Little Bear was particularly cute: when I told him to "run around the bases," he took me literally. He ran to first base, ran a circle around it. He ran to second base, then ran a circle around it, all the way back to home plate. He scored a couple of "home runs" when Daddy's aim the ball (to tag the runner) went wide. He's the best hitter of the three, at this point. Yes, they all bat lefty. The only problem with the game was that The Baby kept running off with one or more of the bases, which necessitated an entertaining interruption of chasing him down to retrieve the base. The chase, of course, is likely why he kept doing it. I got home from my meeting just as the kids were getting out of the bathtub, which meant that I had a nice helping of snuggles. I wasn't expecting that - I got home right around 9 o'clock, which is usually long after the kids were in bed. This morning, The Baby and Little Bear were up around their normal time. The Boy, when I greeted him with an enthusiastic "Good morning!", gave me a very teenager-like dirty look and pulled the blankets over his head. He spent some time trying to ignore us and go back to sleep and was dramatically unhappy that we were waking him up. Granted, he could have been in his own bedroom and slept longer, but that's a story for another day. Granted, I could have NOT sicced The Baby and Little Bear on him, but that just wouldn't have been as much fun. "Little Bear, give your big brother a nice, big hug," was quickly followed by, "Little Bear, please let him breathe. I think you're smothering him."