The low down at my house this weekend:
Lots of baseball, despite a sidelining injury.
A weekend of close games.
Finishing touches on the chicken coop.
Momma Carrie’s time is drawing near.
Aaron has a knack for hitting the ball. He’s so good, his nickname is A-bomb. He made it into the Little League All Stars this year, so earlier this month, we deocrated all our cars for the big tournament. Recently I’ve been getting strange looks at stop lights.
On my driver’s side rear window, I drew a little mushroom cloud and wrote, “GO A-BOMB!”
Aaron is having a pretty good season.
Last week playing first base, he earned an unassisted double play. There was a boy on first and he was standing partway toward second. The batter hit a grounder to Aaron and he scooped it up and tagged (collided with really) the boy heading to second. After he made the tag, I watched his eyes get big and he raced over to first. At first, I didn’t get what was going on. Then I realized he was trying to for the double play.
He got to first base just a beat before the runner. I yelled so hard I embarrassed myself. His coach was so impressed he gave him two tickets to the Mariner’s game for Friday night.
Aaron took his mom.