Because our lives are not crazy-busy enough, we’ve added Little League this year for The Boy. Today was opening day in our league and I dutifully packed my camp chair and headed out to the fields, presumably to be bored out of my skull and to freeze my arse off.
That was not the case.
Oh my goodness. The cute. The cute-cute-cuteness of The Boy in his first baseball pants and cleats. His first batting helmet. His first Little League game ever.
I was prepared for loud parents. I was prepared for being cold and bored and being hit with foul balls. I was prepared to worry that The Boy wouldn’t know when to run, or where to throw.
None of that happened.
Instead, every kid had fun. Every parent was friendly. Every coach was encouraging and helpful. I took about a million pictures and had a lump in my throat the whole time because who am I kidding, I’m a big cry-baby. It’s true.
I think our team won, but at this age they don’t really focus on that. For the record though, The Boy had two sweet hits right down center. He had one run. He played second base and shortstop and left field. He had fun. He had snacks.
And I didn’t freeze.