Well, Saturday was our last Tball game. It was fun, but I'm not too sad that it's over. For one thing, chasing WC around the Tball fields was like a constant greased pig contest. I'm tired just thinking about it.
Above is The Politician with his trophy. He is so proud and really had a good time.
We did notice a few things we'll have to work on with him before next year. For one thing, he hasn't quite got the concept of running the bases down. In this league, each time someone bats, everyone advances one base. The last batter is the "clean up" batter and P pretty much thinks that a home run and jockeys for that spot in line every time.
But he also passes others who aren't running as fast as him. After he batted last in the last inning, he passed the runners on 1st and 2nd and made it home before they did. And he was so proud.
And the parent rivalry is already starting. I got down on my knees and positioned myself where I could take some shots of all our players batting to share with the other parents. One of the other team parents got all huffy about where I chose to be and said all snottily "Could you move? I can't see my son."
Listen lady, he's 3. He's going to stand there in the field and not do anything. At all. He might put his glove on his head, he might do a little jig, but he's really not going to do anything you haven't seen before. And in 10 seconds he's going to go chase a butterly and head 5 feet to the left anyway. Chill the F out. This ain't the Majors.
Our very first tball injury.
