Let's Play T-Ball!

Landon's first T-ball game was Tuesday, and he LovED it! His team is called the Bees, and Will is his coach. We played the Sand Gnats. I have never laughed so hard in my life. The learning curve in T-ball is huge, so if you ever need a good, therapeutic laugh, you have to catch a game.

Warming up

As an observer, the field reminded me of an angry ant hill, teeming with little orange and green ants. There were kids were everywhere! An orange guy steps up to the plate. He swings hard, and he misses. Another swing, and the ball soars (ok, scuttles) along the ground. The hitter should be off to first, but wait, he is headed straight for third!

The concept of base running is a new one for most, so once the ball is off the tee, you can place your bets on where the hitter is gonna run. The little guys in the field just want to touch the ball. They see it and they come running, everyone of them, converging on the ball like their life depends on touching it. Except for one little guy, who is laying down in the middle of the outfield, hat over his face, feet crossed in the air. His dad is in the bleachers yelling, "Caden, get up! Get the ball!", and his mom is taking a picture. I imagine she will blog about it later.

The dugout looks like a scene from Daddy Daycare. Most kids are climbing the fence or standing up on and then jumping off the bench. One boy is crying because he can't find the glove with HIS name on it. The girls are huddled in the corner, giggling and making eyes at a boy sitting in the bleachers. One player is squishing ants with his fingers. And the coaches are out on the field, trying to organize the runners, and attempting to prevent a massive fight over the one and only ball.

It is at this point that I take pity on my poor husband, and his assistant coach, and head over to the dugout to dish out some orders. No more spitting, squishing, jumping, kicking, hitting, crying, or flirting. We sit on the bench. We do not hit our teammates on the head with the bats standing in the corner, even if we do it lightly, and they are wearing a helmet. We may not spit on the ground, even if our spit is green from a piece of candy. Yes, we have to wear a helmet to hit, even if it is too big. We do not share gum. I managed to make the children behave in a semi-human fashion, and the hour time allotment for the game is up before we all know it. It was hilarious!

All I know is, I cannot wait for next week's game. I have good money that the first runner is gonna pass up 3rd, and head straight for home, while the fielders become a glom of hopelessly entangled limbs centered around a little, white ball!