Walking to the baseball glove display case in the sporting good store took longer than expected because Dylan would get distracted because of all the cool sports equipment. ("Wow! Looky at dat bat!")
Even at the wall covered with hundreds of brown, black and, yes, pink leather gloves, Dylan was more interested in the baseballs wrapped in plastic.
"How 'bout this pink glove, Dylan?" I asked.
"No, daddy, dat's for gers (girls)," he responded matter-of-factly. Everything pink he says is for "gers." Neither Quyen nor I have ever suggested that pink is a feminine color, so we think he may have picked that up at daycare.
The hardest part of selecting a glove for Dylan was finding the smallest glove to fit his right had.
These photos show only a fraction of all the gloves available, slowing our decision. The glove we're looking at above is the one we bought. Dylan's first baseball mitt!
Running late, we ran home, made and ate quick lunch before heading over to the YMCA where his league is based. Unfortunately, there was no game today, only skills assessment and team selection. Seeing all those 3- and 4-year-old boys and girls was a sight. I don't want to sound too kumbaya, but it was cool to see dozens of parents and even more children of all races and social and economic backgrounds coming together so these tiny, innnocent, beautiful kids can pay baseball. I couldn't help but think that perhaps in this group of kids could be one of Dylan's future best friends. A friend he could have for years or decades or his whole life. A friend with whom he'll experience all those unforgettable moments of childhood like exploring a creek back in the woods or playing kick the can until his mom calls him inside for dinner. The kind of friend he'll share a seat with on the bus or double-date for a high school dance. Seeing Dylan with the other kids on Saturday in an instant made me think of my own childhood and the friends I had on my baseball teams each year from age 8 to 15. I still talk to some of them, maybe not as frequently as I'd like, but they're still friends that are burn into the memories of my own childhood that I'll never forget.
Wow, that was a trip down memory lane. Ok, here are some pics finally:
There's our future major leaguer in the center, surrounded by a group of future best friends prior to the skills assessment.
Dylan checks the binding of his glove before showing his mad fielding skills.
Dylan at right, his teammates and his coach (in the black shirt).
Uh, I think Dylan's trying to hit on the only female teammate. He's been taught that initiating the conversation is half the battle.
You can be sure that this blog will be filled with action shots of Dylan swinging the bat, running the bases and chasing the ball. Come back Saturday night for those. But in the meantime, come on back tomorrow for Father's Weekend: PART III where we head to the beach to hang with former colleagues of mine, Fran and Mikel LeFort, and their two beautiful children.