Nate was still and quiet a few days ago- a combination that only exists in his sleep, and even then notsomuch.
Mom: Nate, why are you so quiet?
Nate: I was praying.
Mom: What were you praying for?
Nate: (earnestly) Mom, I was praying that someday I could be the guy behind the batter.
So, when we got to the game today and he was the guy behind the batter, he was pretty ecstatic. And he was pretty good too. Not at the catching of the ball, but at the getting hit right in the face with the ball and not being the slightest bit phased by it.
So his coach says to me, "Wow. He really didn't have any problems with those balls coming right at his eyes. That's really uncommon in kids his age."
My response? "Um, yeah, you don't survive being the youngest of 5 rowdies by flinching every time they throw something at you."
Two days ago, Nate called his dad. I could only hear one end of the conversation.
Nate: Hey dad. Are you available (but say evailbible) on Friday at 10?
Nate: Can you schedule me to go to the park for some baseball practice?
Nate: Well, I was just wondering if you could put it on your calendar.
Nate: When will your meeting be over?
Nate: Can I put that on Mom's calendar?
Nate: OK, it's an appointment then.
Nate: Bye Dad.
(and he did in fact make me put it on my calendar)
And yesterday, after eating a large bagel with cheese and egg on it, he very seriously turns to me and says, "Now that I'm a professional athlete, I have to eat like one."
It looks like this little "lark" is rapidly becoming an obsession. We only signed him up because his friends were playing!