Sigh. I was getting used to sleep. Unfortunately, Xander once again has a bad cold/cough that kept him (and me) up most of the night. At the moment, he is finally sleeping. Poor tyke. I am looking forward to the days when all this illness is behind us... more or less!
Mom left yesterday and Xander cried. He cried and cried and the only way I was able to appease his offended sensibilities was to promise that he could call her on the cell phone when we got home. He did and as soon as she picked up, he said 'Gma Pat, I want you to come home NOW!' He nodded once, sharply, in emphasis then handed me the phone. 'I'm done.' And off he stalked. He is a decisive fellow, that one.
Then evening came and we took Jason to his second baseball game. All but two of the kids showed up and, according to Tom, it was quite a hilarious game. Xander and I saw the beginning of it: The youngest player on the team, Matty, was the first source of merriment. He stepped up to the plate (just before Jason) and hit the ball. He was SO amazed at having hit the ball that he stood staring after it while all about him people on both teams yelled 'RUN!!!' He did and he made it to first base. Then Jason stepped up and whacked the ball and took off at a dead run. Matty stood, undecided then started for second. Half way to second, he stopped and seemed uncertain WHERE to go. Everyone screamed 'RUN TO SECOND!!!' so, after a moments reflection, he did. Matty made it to third but when the next batter came up, he stood firmly on third, refusing to move -- maybe he had decided that he was safe there:> At any rate, Jason was barreling to third and when Matty stayed on it, Jason blinked at him then ran for home. Meanwhile all the adults were yelling 'Matty, run home -- Jason go back!' It was almost a chant and I was torn between tears of laughteXar and tears of sympathy for the boys, both of whom were looking befuddled by the whole thing.
Xander and I left shortly thereafter. He was becoming seriously unhappy at the fact that he was not being allowed to play with his daddy and his bahbah. 'I JUST WANT ONE BAT!' he roared -- and from the look on his face I felt sorry for anyone whose knees were at batting level! So I collected my unhappy tyke and we came home and read books, a lot of books, and waited for the return of the conquering heros.
Jason and Tom got home 'early' -- around 7:30. 'It was a fast game.' My eldest said solemnly. He got washed up and in bed, had a couple of chapters of Scooby Doo before the nightly ritual of 'lights out, I want to go potty!' (from Xander) began. While Tom was helping Xander use the facilities, Jason told me about the game. 'In the third inning, I was the catcher and guess what I used to catch the ball?' 'Your glove?' I asked, unimaginatively. 'NO!' he said, 6 year old boy scorn sounding in his voice 'My MASK!' Ulp! I thought. 'The mask? Well, that is why you are supposed to get your glove up, to catch the ball.' Patiently he explained 'Mommy, the ball comes in so fast that if I put my glove up, it just sort of bounces off... so I let it hit the mask and it drops 'plop' onto the ground and I can pick it up!' He was so proud. When I told Tom about the conversation later, he cracked up. 'So he was doing it deliberately?' Then he sighed. Ah well, Jason has his own approach to the game.
No comments:
Post a Comment