Nightmare on Waverly Street

And thus it begins: our 2009 tour of every park within a ten mile radius of our home. Yesterday, I dropped Priscilla off for her first softball practice at a nearby elementary school and she jumped right in - no clinging, no second thoughts. Next we drove to another town and to another playground to take Benjamin to t-ball. He too was rearing to go and only once (I believe) did he get all caught up in the excitement of the moment and tackle another player going for the same ball he was. Meanwhile, Mary fell on the monkey bars and bumped her lower lip which bled profusely without her knowing it. She touched her bloodied mouth with her fingers and then used that same hand to push the hair from her eyes and, apparently, rub repeatedly her little face before finding me and asking, Mama, can you lift me on to that swing? I suppressed a small scream; she look like something from out of a horror film, a horror film starring Tinker Bell. Note to self: always, always keep a container of wet wipes in the mini-van.

Tomorrow, they both have practice again at two totally different fields and I am kind of wondering now why I was the only mother frantically writing down these dates, locations and times on her arm with a black Bic pen (thanks for the hot tip, Beth) as the coaches explained their hardly consistent practice schedules. I am hoping that with more experience, I, too, will be able to nod my head knowingly and answer, "O.K. Alright. M-m-m, H-m-m," and really mean it.