I still do not like sports. I am not competitive. And if you asked me how fast I could run, my answer would be as fast as the person chasing me. Which seems kind of weird because I am married to one of the most competitive men I know. He runs all the time and when he isn't running, he's talking about running.
Much to the chagrin of my husband, it seems that my kids have inherited my athletic skills. They do enjoy sports way more than I ever did but as for any future athletic scholarships, the jury is still out on that one.
Sunday, the kids were out in our front yard playing baseball with the little boy from next door. Haley was the pitcher and she couldn't get the ball over the base (flashback). Holden was the catcher and he was decked out in his protective gear (a Panther's helmet). Harrison was first baseman and outfielder and was apparently aware that few balls would actually be hit since he had pulled up a stool. The game lasted, oh about 15 minutes, before they realized that without the ball getting hit, there wasn't going to be much fun.
Harrison decided that this year he wanted to play soccer. Today I went out and got him some new shorts and socks. When he came home from school, he wanted to try them on so he went upstairs. He came downstairs and I turned around as he said "What the heck, these socks come all the way up to my bellybutton". He said that this is what ballerinas wore. I had to bribe him to get this picture.
Who knows how the soccer season will turn out. One thing is for sure, there will be no shortage of laughter.
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