Not so Smooth, but Not too Bad.

While Smidge lamented my executive decision that he shall wear sweats to practice, I sat down and wrote this:

It is 3:56. Smidge has practice at four. His uniform isn't dry yet. It's not even passably damp, you know, where you *could* make him wear it and just tell him not to complain or pick at the damp crotch. Nope. It's. Wet. Because I, in all my excitement over not having to be in Falkville tonight, forgot to actually turn ON the dryer on our way out the door.

And here, I thought we were doing so well. Hmpf.
Smidge's practice was fun to watch (it's like a miniature version of some zany, madcap film or newsreel from the 1930's, where all the action is choppy and the people seem to be hurrying everywhere).

James' team got absolutely spanked by the other team. Wow, they're good. Their pitcher is amazing. I found myself cringing everytime he pitched - if you ever duck involuntarily when you drive through a parking garage, you know the sensation. Next time we play them, I think I'll sit farther back. Our guys just couldn't seem to get their hands on the ball. We love the coaches on James' team. No matter how poorly the kids performed, the coaches were encouraging. No matter how many times the kids missed a hit or a catch, the coaches had something positive to say to help the boys. But, let one of our kids throw a fit (the catcher last night was so frustrated with himself, and he did lose it at one point), and the coaches come down hard and fast to shut it down. "You can't play with an attitude like that. Get it together." We thought he'd pull the kid from the game, but no. Even then, the coaches understood the child's frustration and after they set him straight, they showed him a lot of grace. Every parent in the bleachers just beamed.

James blew me away last night. The ball headed straight for him, right behind third base, and James not only saw it, but ran up under it. For a child who is terrified of getting hit with the ball, that was *huge*. The sun was in his eyes, and he didn't catch it - it went right between his glove and his head - but he got up there, glove extended, and gave it a go. Two months ago, there's no way he'd have attempted that. I was so proud of him.

AND, (trumpets sound!) Zorak came home early! He showed up at the game, to the total and utter delight of Smidge and EmBaby. And myself. :-) He took the big boys to Scouts and I brought the three littles home, where there was much crying and peeing on things and talking incessantly. It was good. Chaotic, but good.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy