What's the deal with Tball?
Yesterday was the twins first tball game!
For most of the twins almost 5 years of life, there has been very little time when they do not have easy access to mommy or daddy. They can always ask us questions, or look to us for direction... until tball. There are 20 kids between the two teams, 4 are serious about the game, 7 are crying, 3 left the field and are playing in the grass in the next field over, and 6 are switching between wrestling in the infield, and picking dandelions, or piling rocks like tiny yogis. There are about 7 adults in the infield to make sure that no one gets nailed in the face with a ball, and so the kids know where the bases are.
The 4 that are actually playing are constantly looking to one of the many coaches for guidance, but it's confusing to know which coach is yours, so when the coach yells, "Run to third" about half of both teams go running to third. They are all so excited to get the ball while fielding, that when the ball goes to the "pitcher" which it almost always does, most of the infield, runs to the ball, and then they all fall on it in a hogpile. I think that the coaches have failed to address the most basic of rules, but I also am aware that at that age, when there is only one of something, all the kids want it, and have basically zero concept of what it means to play on a team.
At one point Olivia was up to bat, the coach got her all set up; she straightened out of her stance, stopped the game and yelled to me "Hey mama, is Kayla coming to dinner?" Everyone had a good laugh, and her coach came to her again to help get her back in batting stance. Olivia had a couple of good hits, and Wyatt, our little lefty, killed it.
By the end of the game, there were kids that were sobbing for no apparent reason, one little dude broke his glasses by tripping over the tee on his way to first, many of the kids had lost interest and were chasing each other, and the great majority were wondering where the post-game-snacks were.
We made the mistake of taking all 3 kids and Kayla, obviously, to McDonald's for a celebratory dinner. By this time it was already 30 minutes past Camille's bedtime, and the twins were overstimulated, hungry and tired, which is the worst trifecta you can ever have with little kids. THE.WORST.
The game was so much fun, and I have learned that I will never coach tball. I may return to coaching volleyball when the kids are in middle school, but until then, I will leave the coaching for the parents who are secretly masochists that have the patience of a saint.
In other news, I am excited to share that I wrote a guest blog post for a wonderful website and blog called Pen and Parent.
I wrote a little something about writing after becoming a parent. You'll love it, so hop over and take a look
Much love,
B
For most of the twins almost 5 years of life, there has been very little time when they do not have easy access to mommy or daddy. They can always ask us questions, or look to us for direction... until tball. There are 20 kids between the two teams, 4 are serious about the game, 7 are crying, 3 left the field and are playing in the grass in the next field over, and 6 are switching between wrestling in the infield, and picking dandelions, or piling rocks like tiny yogis. There are about 7 adults in the infield to make sure that no one gets nailed in the face with a ball, and so the kids know where the bases are.
The 4 that are actually playing are constantly looking to one of the many coaches for guidance, but it's confusing to know which coach is yours, so when the coach yells, "Run to third" about half of both teams go running to third. They are all so excited to get the ball while fielding, that when the ball goes to the "pitcher" which it almost always does, most of the infield, runs to the ball, and then they all fall on it in a hogpile. I think that the coaches have failed to address the most basic of rules, but I also am aware that at that age, when there is only one of something, all the kids want it, and have basically zero concept of what it means to play on a team.At one point Olivia was up to bat, the coach got her all set up; she straightened out of her stance, stopped the game and yelled to me "Hey mama, is Kayla coming to dinner?" Everyone had a good laugh, and her coach came to her again to help get her back in batting stance. Olivia had a couple of good hits, and Wyatt, our little lefty, killed it.
By the end of the game, there were kids that were sobbing for no apparent reason, one little dude broke his glasses by tripping over the tee on his way to first, many of the kids had lost interest and were chasing each other, and the great majority were wondering where the post-game-snacks were.
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| Camille helping to cheer amidst the chaos |
The game was so much fun, and I have learned that I will never coach tball. I may return to coaching volleyball when the kids are in middle school, but until then, I will leave the coaching for the parents who are secretly masochists that have the patience of a saint.
In other news, I am excited to share that I wrote a guest blog post for a wonderful website and blog called Pen and Parent.
I wrote a little something about writing after becoming a parent. You'll love it, so hop over and take a look
Much love,
B
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