Turner tells me this morning as he snuggles to my chest in bed, "I growed bigger and bigger." He is fascinated, as all people are, with his rate of growth. He is most concerned with getting taller so that he can better participate in the big boy activities. In my sleepy stupor this morning, however, I did not make the connection of his proclamation right away. He repeated himself again, patiently hoping I would notice the obvious difference his growth had taken in less than eight hours. Then he says the key ingredient for my understanding: baseball.
Several weeks ago Turner and I went to the park to feed the ducks and walk around the fort. Young boys were arranging for baseball practice, and I asked Turner if he would like to watch. He obliged. I sat in the grass, and he squatted next to me for about fifteen minutes entranced by the boys throwing balls back and forth as they warmed up for practice. After the fifteen window passed he jumped up and I struggled to my feet. Turner looks at me perplexed. "Sit down Mommy. Practice is not over." I figured his jumping to his feet meant we were leaving. Nope. He just wanted to sit in my lap because the grass was itchy. He sat in my lap, and we watched the boys (who were probably around 9 or 10; some of them had the start of facial hair so however old that makes them).
They finished pithcing to one another and the coach went to home plate. He taps balls out into the field and the boys yell numbers depending upon who is suppose to catch the ball and where he is suppose to throw it. It was interesting and nothing like my softball practices in girlhood. Turner yelled back anytime a boy dropped the ball or missed a catch. "He dropped it." or worse "Get that ball, boy." I laughed, a novice parent mistake. When the next missed pitch occured I reprimanded Turner and explained it was all a learning process. We miss sometimes in life, and that miss can be the most rewarding lesson learned.
As we were leaving he asks to play baseball. I talk to him about his trip with PK to a real game and he tells those "boys" were "really big." I told him that when he grows more and gets a little bigger he can be on a T-ball team. At random times when he thinks about baseball, sees a baseball, or hears someone mention it he informs me he has grown and can now play with the other boys. This morning, though, I'm not sure what sparked his desire to play and grow more as proof of his ability to participate. Perhaps it is because Cheryl is coming today and she reminds him (and us) of all the people who can't come with her...PK the baseball guy, for example. I have no idea how his complex little mind works, but I'm here to assure everyone that at the rate Turner is growing he'll be out on that field in no time.
Several weeks ago Turner and I went to the park to feed the ducks and walk around the fort. Young boys were arranging for baseball practice, and I asked Turner if he would like to watch. He obliged. I sat in the grass, and he squatted next to me for about fifteen minutes entranced by the boys throwing balls back and forth as they warmed up for practice. After the fifteen window passed he jumped up and I struggled to my feet. Turner looks at me perplexed. "Sit down Mommy. Practice is not over." I figured his jumping to his feet meant we were leaving. Nope. He just wanted to sit in my lap because the grass was itchy. He sat in my lap, and we watched the boys (who were probably around 9 or 10; some of them had the start of facial hair so however old that makes them).
They finished pithcing to one another and the coach went to home plate. He taps balls out into the field and the boys yell numbers depending upon who is suppose to catch the ball and where he is suppose to throw it. It was interesting and nothing like my softball practices in girlhood. Turner yelled back anytime a boy dropped the ball or missed a catch. "He dropped it." or worse "Get that ball, boy." I laughed, a novice parent mistake. When the next missed pitch occured I reprimanded Turner and explained it was all a learning process. We miss sometimes in life, and that miss can be the most rewarding lesson learned.
As we were leaving he asks to play baseball. I talk to him about his trip with PK to a real game and he tells those "boys" were "really big." I told him that when he grows more and gets a little bigger he can be on a T-ball team. At random times when he thinks about baseball, sees a baseball, or hears someone mention it he informs me he has grown and can now play with the other boys. This morning, though, I'm not sure what sparked his desire to play and grow more as proof of his ability to participate. Perhaps it is because Cheryl is coming today and she reminds him (and us) of all the people who can't come with her...PK the baseball guy, for example. I have no idea how his complex little mind works, but I'm here to assure everyone that at the rate Turner is growing he'll be out on that field in no time.
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