Well, it’s happened. Our son has reached the age of five, and is now able to sign up for recreational sports. We’re joining the ranks of parents of school-aged children who drive all over the state for evening practices and games. This season, it’s T-ball. A couple of nights a week, we gather our son’s glove, hat and team jersey, pack up some snacks and toys for our 21-month old, and hit the road.
Our T-Ball team is made up of children from three small towns, Alstead, Acworth and Langdon. It’s been fun to meet other parents in the area with kids the same age. We line our chairs and blankets up along the side of the field and snap photos with our phones, so proud to see our kids in uniform.
At the first practice, the coach-a dad of one of the kiddos-needed a little help so my husband stepped in. He’s now assumed assistant coach status, and it has been so fun for me to watch him working with the kids. My dad did the same when I was little, coaching my brothers all the way up the line to winning the little league championship. I still remember that moment and the excitement and pride they all felt after working so hard.
Last week’s game was in Chesterfield, a picturesque town outside Keene. It was freezing, but the kiddos had a blast. Giggling and smiling, they bounced around the infield, not quite ready for a pop up, but possibly able to stop a ground ball. And when it was their turn to hit, they held that bat tight and swung with all they’re made of.
The games are not all that serious, and we don’t keep score – the five and six-year-olds are just learning the ropes. Soon, we’ll be cheering a little harder and the kids will get more emotionally invested in the game. But for now, they’re having fun being kids and learning about the world, one game at a time.