Blurter

This is the time of year that flies by in a whirlwind of activity. Its baseball team tryout season. Starting last week, and culminating next week, Kidlet is basically trying out for a different team every other day in the afternoons or evenings. This is on top of Monday through Friday football training and conditioning in the mornings. It’s hectic.

Whew! Online registration forms or emails to send. General or specific team forms to print out, fill out, turn in. Spreadsheets on each teams prior season performances so we can prioritize Kidlet’s preferences in choosing which team’s invitation to accept. Notes to take. Coaches and their styles to evaluate. Busy, busy, busy.

Yesterday afternoon Steve texted me his leave time from work. I texted back “Tryout tonight”. He wanted to know what field. I told him. He asked for directions. I gave them.

As I sat on the bleachers at the try out, I notice my Sweetie walking up. He was hesitant, but smiling. He clumsily made his way up to the top row where I sat. Kidlet did not get his athletic prowess from his father.

 I asked Steve about his commute and where he had parked, which turned out to be some distance away from the field. Since a different age group was just finishing up a try out, the parking lot next to the field we were at was full. He decided to move his truck once the other group had moved out.

As we watched the two dozen boys go through various drills we ‘chatted’ about his day at work and his commute over. Well, I ‘chatted’ – Steve gave clipped responses. The day had turned out moderately warm - very pleasant to be outside. As darkness fell and the field lights came on, a huge bright white moon came up to the south of us. Many of the boys noticed it and commented to each other, making me smile. It must have been a gorgeous sight indeed to distract these teenagers from their baseball!

“That kid is sure fat and slow!”

My head whipped around towards my hubby.

“SHHHHHHHHHHHH!” I hissed at him. I turned to stare out at right field where Kidlet was currently waiting for something to be hit to him. I prayed that the parent of said kid was not within earshot of us.

“What?” quizzed my Sweetie. “But it’s true!” he ascertained.

“Perhaps,” whispered I, “but you can’t say it out loud! It’s rude.”

“Do you want me to lie?” inquired Hubster.

“NO!” I retorted forcefully, then lowered my voice. “I don’t want you to comment at all.”

Steve proceeded to sit there silently. When I tried to say something about Kidlet’s performance, Steve hissed, “SHHHHHHHHUSH!” at me. So I did. The night was too beautiful and the kids were having such a great time, I just couldn’t go into an in depth discussion about appropriate ‘out loud’ comments in public.

As I resettled myself against Sweetie’s side, he put his arm around me and I soaked up the gentle gesture. I am glad that Steve wanted to be with us. It makes Kidlet very happy when his dad shows interest in his activities knowing that Steve doesn’t like sports. It was a near perfect evening.

But wait. If someone’s car alarm had gone off in the parking lot last night, it would have drawn my attention momentarily, but it wouldn’t have ruined my evening. My focus was on the baseball field, and the beautiful night around it. A brief annoyance wouldn’t have changed that.

So, I sit corrected. It was a perfect evening!