In the midst of soccer came the baseball draft. Now, if you remember last summer, Jackson wasn't a big fan of this sport at all--until the last week of the season. Those last two games he was all about practice and improving and getting better, so we had high hopes for this spring. So we were a little bummed when--after we signed him up and payed the fees--he told us he didn't want to play.
Sorry, kid. You're playing.
Yes I know. We're mean parents. We may even be "those" parents. But we are justifying this by saying until he's played enough to know he really hates it, he can't really hate it. Right?
Practices went well. He has friends from pre-school on the team this year, and he doesn't feel like the "baby" of the team. He still likes "taking a break" more than actually playing, but he gets on base consistently and he is soooo much faster than he was last year!
I will admit, I take the whole baseball thing more seriously than I should, because he clearly isn't planning on making a career of it. I try not to push him, but inside, I keep hoping one day he'll say, "Hey momma, wanna play catch?"
It's my Field of Dreams moment. Don't judge me.
At any rate, we've played lots of games, and we've won quite a few. He's gotten a few medals from tournaments, and he's actually disappointed when they don't win.
That right there is progress.
