Ezra has spent alot of time talking about when his first tball game is…he doesn’t really even want to practice, he just wants to play in a game.  “Daddy, what do I do if I can’t catch the ball?  What if I can’t hit the ball?  What do I do if I have to go potty during the game?  Does everybody get a trophy?”

And I’ve spent alot of time reinforcing the things he’s learned in his two practices, “What do you do if you get the ball after the other team hits it?” [no response] “You throw it to first, bud…as hard as you can.”  “Ezra, what do you right after you hit the ball?”  “Run and hide!” (those of you who know my son, know he shouted it confidently just like that.) “Not exactly…you drop the bat and run to first base.”

So Ezra’s first game last night was very highly anticipated.

In tball, every person on both of the teams bats twice and every person scores twice, so technically, we lost 22 – 16, but everybody also wins, so it didn’t matter.  Ezra started the game on 2nd, wore his glove on his head like a hat, pretended to get blown up, played air guitar, got hot and went to play with his friends near the pitcher’s mound while the other team batted.  He hit the ball both times he was up to bat on the 2nd or 3rd pitch and then stood there holding the bat and grinning before listening to everyone telling him to run to first.  When someone hit the ball, it was mobbed by nearly every kid in the field, all huddled together in the same area.  They were gloriously oblivious to everything except the fact that they were playing together and that they’d get a snack when the game was over.

It was great.  He was proud.  I was proud.

We ended our night with a celebratory run through Dairy Queen…and next week we do it all over again.  Awesome.