It's January: time to register for spring sports (nine months pregnant at this time last year, I missed the boat). I'm trying to keep from over-scheduling the little ones before over-scheduling is impossible to avoid, so I told Catcher he could pick one sport this season--soccer or baseball. I was sure the answer would be baseball. Number one, his name is Catcher; and number two, he's recently been throwing the baseball around with Scout. I filled out the baseball form and asked him which sport he wanted to play. Catcher told me he wasn't ready to make a decision. "No problem," I said. "Sleep on it. Let me know in the morning."
He picked soccer. And after watching him play (he wanted to be goalie) with Alex in the backyard this afternoon, I think I understand why--great photo ops while "diving" for the ball.
Halfway through the fun Scout came waltzing into the picture. She wanted her picture taken, too (I mean, she wanted to play, too). And this is what happened:
I guess Catcher chose the right sport after all since there's no crying in baseball.
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