Tuesday, September 14, 2010

The Natural

It's so exciting to have a genius in the house!

I'm amazed that we got to figure out his calling so early. I mean, that's lucky right? The kid is only 17 months old and we already know his fate, and for once this didn't involve a call to the astrologer.

Yes, and by the title of my post you know I mean baseball. And besides, he kinda looks like a mini-Redford anyway, right?


About to throw something. Run!

He's the nations next great pro-baseball pitcher. The next Nolan Ryan. (ahem. age myself much?) There is not a doubt in my mind about the greatness that is BHB's MLB career. Frankly I'm most excited about the various houses he's going to buy his loving, doting parents.

In the meantime? He's trying to kill us. More specifically, the brown dog.

We live in utter terror. He has the most amazing aim, and worse, his fastpitch is already coming in. It's a bit side-arm-ee but I think with the right coach he can perfect his form.

Today we pulled all toys that have any heft or sharp corners out of the toyboxes. I hate giving him his sippy cups because they are sure to be launched and provide heavy-plastic-water -filled danger that explode in both thud and wet. Thankfully he's started developing 'the look'. He cranes around me, looking for the brown target and when he's got the poor-pooch in his sight, there is a focus that comes over his face and is both eerie and helpful. That's my big chance to either remove or catch the missive. However if I happen to wander off to you know, cook, or pee or glance at my phone? No-one is safe.

Here's how it goes down:

SFX: Crashing plastic block, dog's nails skittering on wood floor as he escapes.
Me: "No Thank You, NO thank you, we do not throw blocks at Bongo"
BHB: Laughing hysterically.
Bongo: Skulking away
Me: You can throw a ball. Let's find a ball. Ohhhh Look a ball! You can throw this!
Me: Ducking

So other than this 'No thank you and let's find what you can throw' plan, do you guys have any other advice? I'm desperate.

I'll leave you with an image that I've put up here before. Anyone who has ever pitched a baseball can vouch for me here, he's got the perfect finger placement.

Gifted child.

Yours somewhere in-between terror and pride,

PS - The other day I tried to ignore dawn patrol by crawling back into bed with the boy and his morning bottle. Hubs snoozed away, and I got a few more winks as the milk went down. Bad idea. Upon completion cute hubs got the fast pitch at short range - literally a foot and a 1/2 away the bottle flew at his nose at full speed. Poor hubs. Not my proudest parenting moment either, as I carried the star player into the other room I asked him (in the not nicest way) what the eff he was thinking. Yea. So please help.