Wade, the little darling, is a sport's junkie. He loves football, baseball, hockey, soccer... Give him a ball, any ball, and the boy is happy, happy, happy. This is what we spend most of our free time doing; throwing, catching, chasing balls. He even brings his menagerie of balls along with us on walks. I'll ask him if he wants to go to the park or the store and he excitedly answers "yes!", starts collecting all of his balls from the yard, hurriedly puts them in his wagon and then climbs in for the ball-accompanied journey to wherever it is we're headed.
Aaron, being a sport's fan himself, is of course thrilled by Wade's love of sports (or at least the love for the balls of the sports). So, needless to say, a toddler t-ball set was one of the first purchases this spring. Wade took to it like a fish to water. Although he's right-handed, he prefers to hit left-handed. (Hey major league baseball scouts, we've got a switch-hitter on our hands!) Wade quickly kicked away the 't' and prefers to have the ball thrown to him. "Throw it to me!, Throw it to me!" is heard repeatedly echoing through our tiny little backyard. He swings and hits that blow-up baseball with his blow-up bat with all the fury and power of a major league hitter. It's a sight to behold. Watch out Derek Jeter, Wade Weakley is close on your heels.
Of course, we all know what it would mean if Wade plays baseball... constant waterworks. I'd probably have to be institutionalized.
I'd love to show you a picture of our little slugger; however, Wade's precious little hands got a hold of our camera and, well, now I don't have a camera. So, use your imagination and picture this:
It's a perfect night. There's not a single cloud in the sky. It's 70 degrees. The stadium lights (or garage spot-light, whatever) shines brightly upon the master of the sport as he steps up to the plate (er... 't'). Confidence exudes from his body. You can see it in his eye. He knows he's the champ. His physical stature is unassuming: short, round, large head. But, his presence is like that of a Greek God. He steps up to the plate ('t'), a hush falls over the crowd (mom and dad), a twinkle dances in his eye and WHACK (phush) the bat penetrates the ball. Up! Up! Up! The ball dances in the stadium lights (garage spot-light) as if it knows it's just been hit by the best damn player in the history of baseball. The crowd (mom and dad) roars as the ball flies further and further over the stadium wall (porch). Oh Man! That ball is outta here! Wade casually drops his bat and begins his victory lap around the bases (cracks in the driveway). It's a beautiful night for baseball.