While I was writing last night's blog, the parents came home from dinner. I told them about it and apologized profusely. (I'm pretty sure Audra had already filled them in on all the details via texts.) They didn't seem too upset about it. They said they have been teaching their kids to be responsible and to do the right thing and they were glad they did. At least that's what they said while we were sitting face to face in my room. What they said when their heads hit the pillows downstairs in their room is their secret. They did say the sister (the one there with the ball player) sent them a text during the game. Something to effect that she was single-parenting all five kids. Which means exactly what you think it means since I was sitting there with her. Okay, I may have been shell shocked a little. M did manage to fold herself up in a child's folding chair and hit her face on my chair in the process. I did not see it coming, nor did I stop it from happening, but in my defense let me say: I was watching a t-ball game, which is quite a bit like watching racoons destroy someone's kitchen in the middle of the night.
T-Ball is a free-for-all and very entertaining. I will admit to being incredibly distracted when the tiny "Catcher" managed to get his batting helmet on backwards and then went staggering out into the field because he couldn't see and also couldn't get the thing off. That was classic. Zane doing side splits along the baseline while he guarded First Base was also good. Said sister (my own darling daughter) did tell me more than three times during the game to 'quit taking this seriously, Mom, no one else is.'
I don't know why I thought the players would be any better this year than last year. It isn't as if any of these kids have touched a baseball or a bat since last October and they can't even remember which drawer their underwear goes in during everyday life. Baseball is not a fast enough moving game for four and five year-olds so they have to invent things to keep them from falling asleep when they're out in the field. Here are the most popular options:
1. Play in the dirt.
2. Spin in circles.
3. Make faces and kick the dirt.
4. Wander around and then sit down (so you can play in the dirt).
5. Chase every single ball all the way to the fence and then fight over it.
6. Practice your dance moves.
7. Walk backward and fall down.
8. Play with your hat.
9. Jump up and down.
10. Look for your mom in the crowd.
11. Play with your penis.
That about covers it. There are a few girls on the team, so they skip the last one.
Walking back to the cars afterward B (who was pulling the wagon loaded with folding chairs) and E and I (who were playing holdy-handzies because I was not UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES letting go of that sweet little ninja's hand) walked on the pavement, into oncoming traffic. Audie, Z, M and Ro were on the grass. B quietly confided to me that we were Team D and they were Team S. I tried to figure it out on my own, to no avail. Finally he said, "We are Team Dangerous and they are Team Safety." Right. No one on either team was run over, misplaced, or peed their pants. That's a win.
We made it home, baths were taken, books were read, kisses given and good-nights whispered. Sweet dreams to all.
I had nightmares all night long and was delighted when the morning sun came peeking in the window.