Sunday, April 15, 2007

"Baseball Field. So Fast." (by iHusband)

The theme in our house.

Svea talks about the "bayball fee-yuld" as if it's a member of the family, a treasured member at that, who might be very ill at this moment and we should go immediately to check on him or her.

Henry points to the players and asks questions about their uniforms. According to his rationale, the catcher is clearly the most important person on the field because he has the most accoutrements to his outfit. When you ask him if he'd like to do something (like eat lunch), he replies authoritatively, "Basebawl playirz like to do dat." Which means yes.

We rarely get to actually watch the games, because they would rather run in circles and act out the plays just beyond the fence. This places us in a terrible spot to see what's going on, but it's very interactive, since foul balls rain down from the sky perpetually in the exact spot our children want to be.

Having lived through a highly successful teeball career where I was stung by insects, hit by errant pitches, and spent most of my time in left field tying and untying my shoes, I am convinced the entire family might be taken out by one stray foul ball and an abhorration of Newtonian law. I usually have an ulcer by the 3rd or 4th inning.

Ladies and gentlemen, the national pastime.

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