T Ball

T-Ball time! 

I felt kind of bad, on game day, Wesley, Reese and I had actually all fallen asleep and didn't wake up until it was time to go! I actually put Wesley's shoes on him while he was still asleep and dragged the poor kid out to the car confused and bleary eyed. We were not about to miss this!

Because we were late, he was last to bat. Thankfully we weren't late enough to miss too much. Here he is eagerly waiting for his turn to hit. 

 His coach explained that when he hit it, he needed to run all the way around the bases and back to home. Since he was the last to bat, he got the joy of a grand slam. 

 Lining it up...

 Look at it fly! The coach is gently reminding him to RUN!

He then flung the bat OVER his head and took off.

 Where do I go from here? He always tried to run across, like from 1st to third, or 2nd straight to home. 

 Circling back to get that base he missed...

 Yes Wesley, you actually have to step ON it. They would say "Touch the base, touch the base!" so he would usually hop down and high five them. This significantly slowed his running time...

 Then it was time to switch teams. Wesley was not excited about fielding.

 He got really frustrated every time someone would hit the ball and he didn't have the chance to hit it. The coach caught on to this and moved him to infield, which helped a little bit... But he's still 3 and finds reason to cry about things frequently. 

This picture just makes me laugh. He had gotten to second base and was just standing there watching all the kids on the other team run to get the ball.

 I love these action shots of Wesley running. So classic Wesley. The face, the arms, the posture.

It's always funny when kids get so excited to run that the trip right off the line. 

 Taking the long way home... See that black line to his left? That's the path from 3rd base home. 

 Again, paying no attention in the outfield.

 And why does everything have to end this way?  I'm not even sure what happened. I knew Wesley was getting bored and antsy toward the end and he had been kind of clingy to me instead of standing out in the outfield. I was trying to corral Reese (who wanted to leave) and motivate Wesley to get back out and play. Then another mom struck up a conversation and I lost track of Wesley. I naturally assumed he was back playing as he was supposed to be. Then all of a sudden I heard crying and I knew it was Wesley. I looked up and the assistant coach had picked him up out of a crowd of kids and was bringing him to me.

I asked him what happened to which he replied, "Those kids wouldn't move. They wouldn't make space for me." I asked if he had pushed someone or if someone had pushed him, but he said there was no pushing involved. The only thing I could figure is he was frustrated that he was not standing in the middle of the mass of kids, and tripped trying to wiggle his way in. He must have smashed his lip pretty hard against that gym floor because he bled a lot and stayed swollen for almost a week.

He made this sad little face the rest of the night. Even as I was tucking him into bed he had his little duck lips. 

Despite the injury, I would say he really really enjoyed t-ball. He even took great pride in telling everyone he saw that he "busted his lip at t-ball."

An Interview with Wesley

Here's my actual interview with Wesley today. All entries are direct quotes.  

What's your name: Wesley 
How old are you: Free.
What's your favorite color: Green and White.
What's your favorite food: Chicken and broccoli please.
Who are your favorite friends: Cassius and Ben and Bluke.*
What's your favorite thing to do: Clean up. (Me: Really? Wes: Yeah!) I'm not convinced
Where were you born: In Utah.
Where do you live now: In Ridge Crossings Parkway.
Where did you live before this: Connecticut.
What kind of cars do we have: The Escape and The Fit.
I like ABCs.
What else do you like: Hmmm, my mom and dad and Reesey and Mommy and Daddy. 
Where are you going for Thanksgiving: To Las Vegas.
-- No we're going to Texas. Oh Texas.
Who are you going to see there:  Cassius and Ben.
Who else: Uncle Clark and Aunt Guinevere. 
Who else? I don't know the right names.
What else do you want to say: Wesley Avarell.
What's your favorite toy: A tractor with paint and a orange one.
What are you going to ask Santa for: A tractor with paint that has a handle that's ten dollars.**
Who's your best friend: I don't know.
What's your favorite shirt: My t-rex shirt.
What are your favorite shoes: My tenna ones.

Now Wesley wanted to type:
rufg7ryr7gjjghythgvghggggggggggggggggggggjkpvuhhnmvmkkkkkkkkkkkkpppppppppppppppphhhhhzuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhmm

Wesley is really smart and really capable with language, but there are still a few cute things he says. For example, to him the singular form of "clothes" is "clo." As seen above, "tenna" is the adjective for shoes, not "tennis." He'll also say, "Is this my spart?" which is a cross of part/spot.

*Bluke: Whenever I would take Wesley to the child watch at the gym, he would tell me afterward that his "favorite kid" was there. I asked his "favorite kid's" name, to which he always insisted his name was Blue. I asked if this was an imaginary friend, maybe a Blues Clues stuffed animal they had there, a nickname... no no. Wesley was sure the actual kid's actual name was Blue. He was so persistent with this belief that I started to believe it. After all, people are naming children all sorts of bizarre things these days. One day I asked the staff as I was checking Wesley out if they had any child named Blue that came. I explained why I was asking and they looked over the rosters and sure enough, no Blue. Still, Wesley was sure his Favorite Kid was Blue. Then one day, I ACTUALLY met the kid. (I'm pretty sure his mom is a Zumba lady-- we are always at the gym at the same time, but never in the same place (because of course, i do not do Zumba. No thank you.)) Anyway, I was not about to let the chance pass by without catching a look at this adorable favorite kid's name tag: It's LUKE! Ooooh I totally get it. I completely understand why Wesley would have heard Blue instead of Luke. Easy mix up. So then I said to him, "OH! Wesley! His name is LUKE, not BLUE." To which Wesley replied, "Oh BLUKE! I get it."

**The other day in the craft aisle of Wal-Mart Wesley fell in love with a paint-your-own wooden tractor kit that had a handle on the package. He carried it all around the store and I told him about 100 times that I wasn't going to buy it today. He continued telling me that I was buying it today. It wasn't until I suggested that perhaps he could save his money for it or ask Santa for it that he put it back.

I really love this kid. He's hilarious and a ball of energy. He is getting so big but he's still so little. In my skewed perspective, it's easy to think that 3 is old since I have only a 1 year old around to compare it to. Last night Eric and I were talking about how we only have 3 years of parenting experience, but it feels like a long 3 years. It seems like we've had these little tinies forever. Life before them is a distant dream.