SmileT-ball is over. It was our second year of baseball for the youngest set and, really, it was a fantastic experience. Even more so than last year (oh my, go read that link simply for BigBrother’s now-gone cheeks). And, even better, with less smoking! (Though in my survey I said that they need to make the fields no smoking.) But back to BigBrother’s experience with t-ball.

We were once again blessed with great coaches. T-ball is for ages three to six in our area which, if you know kids, involves a wide range of physical ability, emotional readiness and other such issues. And when I say wide range I mean a chasm of differences were present in our teammates. Our coaches understood this fact and did a wonderful job at corraling, encouraging, teaching and making sure that the game remained fun. They did a great job at making sure the best and fastest players weren’t the only one getting time fielding the ball. In fact, in one game where BigBrother was doing exceptionally well, he did handed the ball that he had just fielded over to a girl who hadn’t had a chance to throw it to first base yet. Heart-swelling moment.

As per usual, there were some issues. The YMCA remains less than organized. The seven o’clock game is late for my boys and some of our other teammates. Less smoking is good but, really, I’d prefer no smoking at a t-ball game. In fact, while photographing one of the high school girls’ game, I saw that they have a no smoking sign at their field. It’s just common sense. We did get rid of some issues though: no mean kid that taunted BigBrother this year and, wait for it, no mean parents. Really, this was almost the perfect year.

As evidenced by this smile on the field:

Happy

Except for that one time that BigBrother took a ball to the chest.

He was okay. Just kind of stunned. It was like the time that he took the soccer ball straight to his leg in soccer this past winter. Those two experiences were more of a, “Wait, the ball can actually hurt me,” than true injuries. Still, the look on his face was quite sad.

The best part of the season was his number. He was number 15, the last number on our team. Every other game, he would either bat first or last. When he would bat last, they would call, “LAST BATTER,” and then BigBrother would get to round the bases after he hit the ball. Home run! Twice a game! Every other game! And the crowd goes wild! Or at least we did.

What wasn’t an issue at the beginning of the season slowly began to become an issue. LittleBrother was too young to play this season. He started out not really minding. We always took his glove and played catch on the sidelines. Eventually, he started asking to play, and, for awhile at least, he was content when we said he could play next year. In fact, the season ended on a decent note. No big fits. No whining. No running onto the field. I was pleased. Then we went to the pizza party where they received their trophies and LittleBrother lost it. “I want a trophy, TOOOOO.” I know it could have been much worse, but I still felt a little bit sorry for him. And my ear drums at that point.

LB Off the field

Will we play t-ball next year? Yes. Am I looking forward to paying full price for two children as there’s no point in a five year old having a membership at the YMCA just to get the reduced price? (The yearly expenditure would equal the amount of difference between the two costs.) No. I’ll have to budget wisely in the month or so leading up to sign ups to make sure I can afford to send them both out on the field. I expect that next year should bring about some interesting sibling issues on the field.

I’m glad he played this year. I’m proud of what he accomplished.

I almost don’t know what to do with my Thursday night now. Except see Eclipse.

Up until this weekend, BigBrother was timid in the pool. He would cling to me for most of the time spent in my parent’s pool. Eventually he would find enough nerve to jump off the side into someone’s waiting arms, and on a rare occasion, he might swim with swimmies (you know, floaties) and a pool noodle. But none of that “on his own” business. Until he saw his sister swimming like a fish this past weekend.

Now?

Swimming

LittleBrother was always a fish. He would “swim” with his swimmies on, occasionally asking for help when he got tired. He wasn’t really a fan of putting his face in the water though and would sometimes panic if he thought you weren’t paying attention (which we always were).

Grin

I missed swimming lesson sign ups for all classes in our area. Though LittleBrother is technically too young, I have been informed by parents who are better than me that BigBrother should have already had two years of said classes under his swimming trunk elastic. I have failed yet again.

But do kids need swimming lessons?

I ask this not knowing the answer. I’m all about safety. I am 100% for children learning the importance of safety around water, how to properly swim and to learn to love and respect the water. But classroom settings, even in a pool, stress BigBrother out. In fact, the thought of swimming class stresses me out and both of my sons play heavily on how I react. Will swimming lessons be beneficial? Are they an absolute necessity?

I understand that my kids are still using floating devices and are therefore not technically swimming. I would never leave them unattended in their swimming devices just like I would never leave them alone without those helpful bits of floatie stuff. I’m not asking for permission to do so. What I’m wondering is if I have to shell out money for something I can technically teach the kids on my own or, really, that they can learn while in the pool with others.

This isn’t like the issue of organized sports. I believe they learn all kinds of things in a setting like t-ball (for which we have a year end pizza party tonight) or soccer (which went incredibly well this past winter). I think things like basketball camp can teach kids great skills that they can use in a team setting and even in real life. And, really, I’m not the one who should be teaching either of these kids how to properly handle a soccer ball with their feet seeing as how I never played. But I can swim and I can swim well. Can I teach them? Should I teach them? Will they learn from someone else better?

In short: did your kids take swimming lessons or did you teach them or a combination of the two or neither or… please chime in on my inner dialogue, okay?

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With the T-ball Player Himself

With the T-ball Player Himself

A Different Kind of T-ball Helmet

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Soccer Star

(I’m sure I’ll talk more about this in the coming weeks. This was from his first game.)

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