Another Tuesday, another kickball and t-ball practice. And I do mean PRACTICE. They have yet to play a game of any sort, even the kickballers. Apparently more training is needed to hone their kickball skills before the coaches will deem them ready for a game.
Update on Caleb: he actually fought kids over the ball tonight as the coach worked on throwing it out to a group of about 5. At a different station where he needed to wait his turn to bat, he had his glove in his mouth and was roaring at another little boy and snapping his glove closed with both hands - what I'd imagine would be a pitcher's nightmare. Yes, I can smell the stadium hotdogs now. Major league, here we come. He is doing a much better job of paying attention now though after we threatened to take his end-of-t-ball snack away.
This morning as I sat with Noah and Caleb and the babies watching Sam doing kickball drills, Noah started dancing in front of me and rolling up his shirt so his tummy was sticking out.
"Who made me? Who made me?" he sang.
Then he came over and looked earnestly into my face. "Who made me, Mama?"
"Who do you think made you?" I asked.
He leaned over to whisper. "God made me," was his confident reply.
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