Ball Practice

My husband and I signed our son, Sweet Potato,  up for Super T-Ball.

SP's  first day of T-Ball practice was this week.  He strutted through the parking lot like John Travolta in the opening sequence of Saturday Night Fever.  He jumped onto the field.  "Hey buddy," the coach called, "Put your glove on and play catch."  SP slipped his glove onto the wrong hand.  The ball came to him and he watched it land at his feet.  At the coach's urging, he picked up the ball and tried to throw it--with the gloved hand.  There was a quick time out to determine his hand dominance and the glove was now on the correct hand, his right hand.

Two minutes later, the mitt was on the wrong hand again.  The balls slipped by Sweet Potato and he happily allowed them to invade his personal space.  When the coach encouraged, "Get the ball, pick it up,"  he would suddenly pounce on the ball and make a throw that would send the ball diagonally from the intended recipient, hitting the dirt halfway between them.

During batting practice, he loudly announced, "I am JACKIE ROBINSON!" He hit the ball and dashed to first.  We cheered!.  When he was on first, he was providing his verbal commentary, which included proclamations of extreme thirst and happily booing his teammates for striking out.  Then, he adjusted his sweaty drawers. At least he can scratch himself like a ball player, I thought to myself.

In the outfield, he collected rocks and put them in the pockets of his shorts, which were on backward.  In between rocks, he called out, "My coach is making me work SO HARD!"  The parents all laughed.  Comic relief for them.  Another day-in-the-life for us.

His turn to bat again.  He made contact with the ball and did this run-hop-shuffle to first.  Then he grabbed his backside with his hand and attempted to run the bases holding his butt.  What is he doing?  "I've got so many rocks," he told his fans, who marveled at how well he can play with a fistful of rocks on his booty.

It was time to clean up after the practice and he just stood there.  I guessed that the rocks were slowing him down.  I urged him to follow the coach's directions and clean up and he said, "I am a shepherd watching my sheep."  He had been listening to a storybook Bible CD in the car and apparently the imagery was convenient for avoiding the work.

His first T-Ball game is tomorrow.  It should be interesting.