Wheaties

86 Weeks

Mommy did a lot of overtime this week. Life was a blur until I awoke on a Monday morning day-off to a 20-month old professional baseball player in the house. Before and after each meal, bath, car ride, if Ren couldn't be outside or on an actual baseball field he stood on the diamondish shaped pattern in the center of the living room rug and said, "Mommy. Daddy. RenOnTheBaseballField. RenInTheBaseballGame." To which Mommy or Daddy responded (via announcer's voice): "Ren's on the baseball field, in the baseball game, with the baseball team. Ren has on his baseball cap..." (Ren interrupts, "baseball HAT.") "...and Ren has his baseball hat. Ren has his baseball glove. Ren stands on the pitcher's mound, and... here comes the pitch... and he SWINGS..." At that moment, Ren would toss up the hollow, oversized toy baseball and hit it with a undersized, plastic bat. It would make this vague "crack," reminiscent of a televised professional home run. 

This is one of those times I think I can reach up over Greg's head and touch the thought bubble.