The Strike II

So, last night my almost-six-year-old son and I were out and stopped at a park and I got our baseball gloves. His is a rather cheap plastic (or pleather, at best) imitation glove that is really too small for him and, to make matters worse, is autographed by Alex Rodriguez (aka "Pay-Rod").

Nonetheless, he persevered and did rather well catching and throwing. I was so impressed that I determined on the way home that I would get him a real glove for his birthday this week. But then this afternoon he was moping around for something to do so I took him and his big sister over the the local box store in search of a new glove as a "surprise." Of course, it's hard to get a new glove in AUGUST, and there was but one glove in the entire store. As luck would have it, however, it was the right size (a little big for him, but he'll grow into it), for the right hand (he's a southpaw), and, above all, the right price (60% off). Sold.

I had the forethought to bring along a bottle of glove oil and our other gloves, as well as a T-ball bat, so we drove to a nearby park and the three of us messed around for awhile. Again, he did very, very well for (a) having a new glove and (b) not having played much to begin with.

So we drove home and, of course, the first thing he wants to do is show Mom how good he's doing. So I have him stand in the backyard and lob an underhand throw to him exactly as I'd done about 100 times for the past hour.

STRIKE -- right on the forehead.

Two glasses of milk and a once-frozen bag of vegetables later, he was fine and no visible blemishes, but that endeth the ballgame for the time being. Mom will have to take my word for it for now.