t-ball: the endless drama; also, recs

Okay, so this won't be scintillating monologue, but I want to later show this to Child to remind him about the sacrifices I've made on his behalf. Because today, man, did I earn the title Greatest Mom Ever. Or at least, Greatest Lazy Mom Ever. I SHUCKED my dislike of outdoor sports, TOSSED ASIDE my hatred of bright, wholesome sunlight, DISCARDED my diffident reaction to far too many people wearing really inappropriately tight clothes, and dropped into the masses of civilazation that just, frankly, scare me.

Okay, so I'm melodramaing, a little. You try being calm after sitting in the sun for two hours wishing for your own death. However, highlights.

Child is the last to bat. Very cute in little green shirt, shorts, and old shoes.

(Sidenote--buy child hideously expensive shoes so as to make other parents feel inadequte. Seriously, how many six year olds NEED eighty dollar Nike's to play baseball, I ask you? Apparently, a lot of them. Well, dammit, mine does now. Oh yes, materialism rules.)

Okay, anyway. Child was only one other than Short Haired Blonde Girl who wore shorts, as other suited up in Real Baseball Pants. One might say, aww, and yes, I was tetchy and yes, feeling abusive and inadequte as a parent and human being, until I noted that every other team with sense was wearign some variation of shorts with the weather climbing into the one fifties or so and the eggs we were all frying on the sidewalk becoming burned.

Me? Snarky? You think?

Anyway, child steps up to plate, coolly and not terribly worried about the hundred (fifties?) of eyes resting on him. Little hat perched on his head, over which the hitters hardhat sat. No, really, this killed me. Being a prodigy, of course, he hit that ball RIGHT off the tee, and proceeded--

--to run RIGHT to third base.

You know, the OPPPOSITE of first.

*grins*

My sister's theory is, he's still confused about being a leftie in a world of righties. Mine is, he was bored and wanted to entertain the crowd. Mom just thinks he wasn't paying attention. Any of these would do. Half way there, Child does a U turn and makes for first base, where he was, indeed, most decidedly out.

But did that stop him? Hell no. Child mosies onto second, while all of us watch in a kind of wonder, then makes for third. He comes into home plate cool as a cucumber, glances around, then trots back to the dugout while I, his inadequte mother, tries to recover from the hernia caused by laughing so hard I lost my lemonade.

This rocked.

Child's outfield time was, apparently, very boring--I don't blame him. I mean, nothing was going far past the pitcher, so Child entertained himself by kicking up the red dirt, crouching down to study it, sifting it through his glove, and letting it fall in little clouds. Over and over again. Small children hit balls and every so often, Child looked up to check out how things were going, but that dirt? Fascinating stuff, apparently.

Second time at bat: Coach Who Used to Go to High School With Me lines Child up correctly and talks to him, then backs off a few steps. Coach says something to Child, who then turns and points toward first base earnestly. We assume he was assuring that Child now understood that yes, it's called First Base for a reason.

Child hits the ball and runs for first. Stops there to contemplate the wonders of nature whilst other Small Ones fumble with the ball like a hot potato. Child considers second. Ball continues to be fumbled. Child takes the chance and mosies--no one sane would call this running--for second.

This pattern continues.

There were only two innings, no actual scoring, but they all have fun. Immortalized on video tape and pictures that eventually, I'll upload.

Me-sunburned, cranky, exhausted, but see? Apparently, Child can make even baseball fun. Who knew?

Recs

Protect and Serve by Sarah T. If you only read one Mercy-character story in your life, you should read this one. A fascinating, beautifully written view into the mind of one of Lex's bodyguards--it's unlike anything I've read before, and the tragedy is understated, elegant, and thought-provoking as hell. Possibly the best use of a semi-OC (since Mercy is comic canon) that I've read yet. Once again, Sarah blows my mind, but she does it with class.

Getting to Know You by ingrid. The sheer creepiness of Red!Clark here is marvelous--kidlike, maniacal, dark, vicious, and amoral by turns and at the same time. Post-Exodus, very spoilery, and extremely well-written. I'm not getting over this one anytime soon.

A Touch of Mercy by dolimir. I thought this was very sweet. And I liked Clark here. Heh. *pets Clark*

I need more to read. *sighs* And more music recs. Something. Gehr. Which is my new variation of Geh. I'm sure someone's used it before, but that's okay, and isn't that silent h just so pretentious? *G* Also, need chocolate. Soonish.