With opening day coming up this weekend, the lass finally had her first t-ball practice today. Having watched her brother go through t-ball last year, and then persevering through his coach pitch practice this year, she was very excited to finally have “her turn.” How long the loving feeling will last is anyone’s guess.
The situation actually brings to mind one particular parental trap we’ve found ourselves in with the boy and the lass. The boy is, effectively, 2 years older than her. So in absolute terms, the lass has started her extra-curricular stuff a year sooner than the boy did. For instance, last year the boy was in t-ball as a kindergartner. The lass, by contrast, is starting out while in pre-K. While we would prefer to let her wait another year, practically speaking it’s not happening- she’s been tailing the boy for the entirety of her short life and she’s not interested in being left behind any further than absolutely necessary. Her patience stretches about as far as a dry-rotted rubber band.
Swinging back to t-ball, she’s not the only girl on the team. All three of them seemed to know one another, so she’s got that going for her. She was excited to see some of her class mates on the team as well. She even knew how to run the bases and did so with great gusto (hey, with the 5 year-old crew, nothing can be taken for granted).
The only thing she doesn’t like is her team’s name- “The Bees.” She preferred her brother’s team name from last year, “The Raptors.” I tried to point out that this will be her team and she should be excited that she doesn’t have to follow in her brother’s foot steps. She gets to have her own path; her own teammates; her own coaches(excepting myself). But she wasn’t having any of it.
Hopefully, she’ll be able to comes to turn with that heavy burden.