Playing "Press Your Luck"

I should know better, I really should. The men in my life do not respond well to to-do lists and checking things off. Yesterday I got another reminder that the 5-year-old I live with has his limits, and if you push past them, well, that way there be dragons.

Alex had a dentist appointment at 4 yesterday and T-ball at 5:45. We were actually early to the dentist, which may be a first for me. Alex is not very enthusiastic about having his teeth cleaned, but Cole's mom, Mrs. Janna, did them and he was very good for her. (It's hard for him to stop talking long enough to have his teeth done.) We were out of there by 4:15. That was even including showing all the patients in the lobby the prize he collected for coming in.

I should have gone home and let everyone rest until time for T-ball. BUT I was trying to find a time to squeeze in a haircut for the wild man before his 4K graduation tonight. So, we headed to the barber shop. Again, he was perfect. He waited his turn, sat sort of still and let Mrs. Tina use the clippers even. Life was good.

Then we went to T-ball. While we were at the barber shop there was a tremendous downpour. By the time we got to the YMCA, it had slacked off. I thought we'd be inside, which was the plan for rainy days. However since it had stopped raining they decided to play on the field. Since we missed last week while we were on our trip, we didn't know that the two teams were playing yesterday and next Tuesday. This is exciting - we are ready for the game. Except our two coaches don't show up. Apparently the storm was so bad they decided practice must be cancelled. In all, four kids on Alex's team were there, and he was the only one in uniform. The Y coordinator bravely stepped in to be their coach. The other team had seven players, all in uniform, and they'd been paying way more attention for the first four weeks than our team. Alex was ready to go after about 15 minutes. It was a long half hour after that before it was over. I consoled him when we were done: there's only one week left, then you're free.

Signs that you are at the first T-ball game of the season:

- A kid watches a bird up in the air so long that he falls over on his rear, while playing pitcher
- Your child is lapped by a runner between second and third base
- Many, many players must be reminded which way to run when they hit
- You can count on one hand how many times the ball is hit out of the infield
- When the coach yells for them to come "home" - Alex asks "Can we go home NOW?"
- Alex asks the coach to pull his finger, thankfully making fake sound effects
- Two players have to be told to "unhug" repeatedly
- There is at least one crash between a runner and a second baseman

We have learned valuable lessons during our brief foray into organized sports. One of them is that organized sports are not for us. I'm pretty sure that Alex will not voluntarily play anything with a practice schedule or uniforms for a long time to come. I won't admit that was my plan but it works out well for me!