Tee ball

What an experience. The sport itself is kind of like a BMX bike with training wheels. All the rules of normal baseball seem to apply (though I know any true baseball aficionados will tell me otherwise), except that the kiddos hit the ball off a "tee" instead of whacking it mid-air. So take 20 three year olds, 15 of their parents and a very nice dad/coach. Put them in a field full of perfect gravelly dirt on a sunny day and ask them to stand in a specific spot to wait for someone they can't quite see and certainly don't know to hit a ball. Right. No one'll be picking noses or building dirt mountains or chatting with Mom.

Being the helpful mom I am, I tried to give very specific and encouraging directions to my little pitcher (which by the way is both the most useless and the most important position on the tee ball field: no pitching, practically all the fielding). "When the little boy in the red shirt hits the ball off that thing, run as fast as you can to pick up that ball, and then throw it over to the girl with the blue and pink glove. Try to be quick before the red shirt boy gets to first base!" Mmm hmm. I didn't even understand that.

After doing remarkably well considering the coaching she was given, Zoe took a turn at first. "But he's standing on my white thing, Mommy." How do I explain that when I never really got it myself? Dad couldn't make it for the big questions tonight, obviously, or this post might sound quite different.

Zoe seemed to have fun with Grandpa and Addie looking on, and after a picnic at the park, she was even excited to talk about it. But I think we're both glad it'll be up to dad from here on out.