For whatever reason, I don't know if it is because of the Chicken Little movie, or because his friend is on a baseball team, or just something that struck his fancy, Charlie has been asking to be on a baseball team for the last week. I hadn't signed him up, because I just didn't think he could handle team sports - he had a tendency to wander away when they played ball in gym at school, for example, and I suppose the over-protective mother in me worried about him not being good at it, and being picked on. However, he was so eager to play, I took him to his friend's practice today to see if it was too late to sign him up. It wasn't, and, though he isn't as yet officially signed up (long story) they let him join the practice.
He had the best time. He was so happy out there, and the coaches were amazing, showing him how to hold the ball and everything, and working with him without making a big deal out of it. He listened, and stayed focused and just had the best time. I almost cried watching him, my 'special needs' kid out there playing ball on a spring day with other kids his age - not 'special' kids, just all sorts of kids; regular boys, if you will, and he held his own.
And he was so happy. I wish I could convey how lit up he was. On our way home he kept saying, "I play baseball now."
And he wasn't half bad, either. My baby. My big boy.
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