This morning I had to dress my son. Physically dress him. I wrestled my giggling boy into his Buzz Lightyear underwear and shorts and his Tonka t-shirt. I had to carry him down the stairs as he whimpered - clearly he had not gotten enough sleep. Last night before bed I held this small boy in my arms as we snuggled under his train blanket - a favorite bedtime activity of his that we do not do very often anymore. Last night and this morning my son was exactly as I see him most of the time- young.
I sent my boys off to work and daycare and headed to my upstairs office, where I began my day with e-mail. There in my in box was a message from the coordinator of the Grove City Tee Birds. It was the team roster and game schedule for my son's tee ball season, which starts tonight. A schedule! I don't know what I was picturing, but it wasn't organized games against other teams. I think I was picturing small children wandering around bases, running the wrong way and kicking up the dirt. Which I think is probably what will happen. But it is a surreal feeling to have a child with one foot in the baby world and one foot already kicking the dirt of a baseball field. I had no idea how hard this was going to be- watching my son grow, wanting him to grow up and do all these amazing things, but yet, he is still my baby boy. He will always be my baby boy, but I fear that soon I will have to keep those feelings to myself. Sigh... But when is all grown up and playing in a real baseball game, or playing drums in a band, or whatever it is he grows up to do, I will still always have this video of his first visit to the baseball diamond. I am confident that watching him run past first base and into the grass will always make me smile.
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