Sometimes I think this blog should be renamed "adventures of the family with the boy who refused to wear what he is supposed to." The funny part is that, while annoying at the time, it really isn't a big factor in our lives. In fact, I almost forget about it. Until I open up the photos and then I have to chuckle when I see this:
Onto the more important details. We play a very relaxed season of t-ball with the local YMCA this spring. It was for 3- and 4-year-olds. Due to the lack of any other volunteer, Mark was the coach. We just played in a grass field. Thirty minutes of practice followed by thirty minutes of a "game".
As you can see, the parent to child ratio in the field is about 1:1.
We had to work on the teamwork aspect quite a bit as most of the time fielding when like this: ball is hit, all boys in field rush toward ball and dog pile on each other to see who gets to throw the ball to first, s struggle ensues, someone comes out with the ball, celebrates for a bit, and then throws it in the general direction of first base. Usually one (or more) of the non-victorious fielders emerge in tears. This would be a huge problem if it weren't for the fact that the batter often stands for about thirty seconds to admire how far the ball went when he hit it.
By the end of the season we had made a little progress (notice the shirt!). It may look like we thinned out the dads in the field but I think that week there were only 3 kids and 2 dads there.
Looking official.
The siblings resided in the dugout.
Until the team took over for the most important part of the day: snack time.
 |
| Wyatt with his buddies Braden and Sawyer to his left. |
No comments:
Post a Comment