Baseball Season

I didn't grow up playing sports, so this whole world of childhood sports is a relatively new one to me. Some moms show up so incredibly prepared. They bring their collapsible wagons onto the field full of all sorts of goodies. I tend to be the disheveled one off to the side that didn't bring anything practical with me. So I'm sitting on the wet, dirty ground, trying to pick the crumbs out the of bottom of my diaper back to feed a child that keeps yelling "I'm hungry", as I didn't think to pack any sort of snack. Sure, I'm slowly learning. Last year I learned to just keep the fold up chairs in my car, so I wouldn't forget them. However, it's the beginning of the season, so they have yet to make it into my car. Connor wants to know why he can't have gatorade like everyone else, as I say something about it being pointless sugar water and that his body really just needs the refreshing ice water I packed. Hey, I did manage to pack water for him, so go me!

But then I look up and see the smile on Connor's face as he runs around practices with his team, and suddenly my wet butt doesn't matter so much. Suddenly having to constantly pick up an escaping Callum and bringing his grass stained up self back to my little plot of land on the field feels worth it. I hear Connor tell me on the way home what he is good at and what he needs to work on. I think about how far he has come since he started tball two years ago. This year he is in coach pitch. I realize how much this means to him and it makes me happy.

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