OK.
So a kid needs a glove to play baseball.
I found out about t-ball starting this week one hour before it started.
Went home, got Rowan ready.
Ball cap. Check.
Running shoes. Check.
Bug Spray. Check.
Get to the park. Doh! Baseball GLOVE.

So we picked up a glove today at the hardware store ~which is so silly because not one of those 25 3-5 year olds caught a thing with a glove at practice! I think they should just each carry a big net. Anyway, we picked a glove ~ the purple and pink girly one was cheapest, even if it felt like selling my soul to the princess-makers, and we brought it home.

Rowan spent the day being a baseball player. She knows NOTHING about baseball, and one practice under her belt hasn't helped much. She often reminds me of a beloved dog I had, Callie, who always proceeded into everything as if she knew exactly what she was doing, most especially when she had no idea. A trait both awe-inspiring and frustrating at turns!

At practice Rowan ran around the bases, repeatedly, thinking it was a race to each bag for jumping on it and the one who makes the moost dust wins. She caught the rolling ball once, having gotten to it before the mob of little boys chasing it down. One of them then chased HER around the field growling and grabbing for the ball~ she hid behind me.

When we got home, she told Daddy that:
"I was the one in charge of all the balls" and that "I caught the ball every time before the boys could get it.". Um. Not quite. She is a legend in her own mind!

So today, as a baseball player, she wore her sparkly glove on the wrong hand (and could not be convinced otherwise) walked around making statements like "Give me my club so I can score a goal!" and "I caught it! I made a goal! I win!".

She is having fun and that is what counts, right?
Even more than goals clubbed in.
So the ball season has begin!
Grab your club, jump on a base and have fun!