Swing batter batter, swing
Just about two years ago, Caroline had her first and, I feel almost certain, her last dance recital. Dance just didn’t hold that much appeal for her as evidenced by the enthusiasm displayed in this picture.
Of course, would you be excited about being dressed up like a three-year-old version of Charo? It will be a wonder if she doesn’t need counseling for that bow.
I think her main issue with dance, other than being dressed up like she was going to be on “Toddlers and Tiaras”, was that there was no winner or loser. She’s been competitive since the day she won the Halloween Costume Contest when she was 14 months old and tasted victory for the first time.
I don’t really know where she gets it from, says the woman who spent the better part of two weeks pinning white feathers on a white Gap onesie to make a homemade duck costume so that we could win a free ice cream at Baskin Robbins.
So, given her competitive streak, I thought it might be time to venture into competitive sports, specifically t-ball because they sell snowcones and sausage wraps at the Little League fields.
Tuesday evening was her first practice. P is helping coach and I decided to go just because I didn’t know any better. Mimi and Bops were also there because Caroline is an only child and usually travels with an entourage.
The practice was basically semi-organized chaos. None of the kids seemed to understand that they were on the same team and so they’d all go running for the ball, tackling each other to get to it first. No matter where the ball was hit, Caroline was there in an instant. She ran and slid and played her little heart out. My dad made sure to let me know she doesn’t get that hustle from me.
And he should know since he spent many a season coaching my various teams while I picked daisies in the outfield in between drawing pictures in the dirt with my cleats.
Our coach is really nice, but just a wee bit too intense and practice ran an HOUR late. It was 7:30 by the time we left the practice field and I was not happy to be heading home at 7:30 with bathtime and dinnertime still looming in the distance. In fact, after our marathon practice, the coach started to give a little pep talk and said, “I know it’s almost dinnertime…” And I said, “OR AFTER”.
That’s right. I’m the mom that heckled the coach, but hell hath no fury like a woman who needs to get some fish sticks in the oven.
P told me it wasn’t a big deal and that I was the only one who didn’t have a good time, which is easy for him to say because he didn’t have to get the fish sticks in the oven the minute we walked through the door and feed them to an excited five-year-old who kept saying, “Oh man, Mama. You get really beat up playing t-ball.”
I tried to explain that she wouldn’t get as beat up if she didn’t tackle everyone for the ball every time, but she just looked at me like she felt sorry for me and my lack of competitive nature so I quit talking.
Saturday was opening day. I got her all dressed in her black uniform and she was a little concerned because “black isn’t really my color”. Then, we headed up to the fields early for team pictures.
Everyone wanted to make the play. They looked like little black ants who just found an abandoned dorito.
The little girl in the pink uniform hit the ball and then attempted to go field the ball she had just hit. Notice Caroline beat her to the punch and then tagged her out, even though no one gets out in t-ball. A fact that caused Caroline no small amount of distress, along with the fact that she doesn’t have a hot pink uniform.
But she does have a hot pink batting helmet. And a hot pink bat. And a hot pink glove.
In the words of Clairee Belcher, “What separates us from the animals is our ability to accessorize”. And, also, opposable thumbs that can be used to catch a ball with a hot pink glove.
Here she is running for home plate.
After it was all over, what really mattered wasn’t whether we had won or lost. Except to Caroline that was all that mattered and she had no doubt that her team won even though no one kept score.
And, I’ll be honest, they totally won. They put the smack down on that hot pink team.
I mean that in the nicest way possible.
After the game was over, her team huddled together and decided they needed a team name besides “ICS”. The coach suggested the Panthers and all the kids just stared blankly at him. Then Caroline said, “How about the Pirates?” and everyone cheered.
It was a good day. But has there ever been a bad day when snowcones are involved?
I think not.
