Take Me Out To The Ballgame

So earlier this spring we received a note in the girls backpacks telling us about sign-ups for softball. Grace sort of wanted to try it, Emily was slightly more reluctant. But, we insisted they give it a try. Now, $250 later we have a couple ball players. And...they love it! Can I say, they mostly love it because of the fully awesome, fully adorable uniforms! Look at my baby!! Look at those knobby knees!! Call a time out, Mommy wants hug!!

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Look at Grace on first base! She got a hit!

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And look at my Emily. Look at that stance!

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OK, so being at the ball park does give me a bit of anxiety (surprise surprise). I hate all those balls flying around. I'm sure one's going to whack me in the head. Well, guess what? Last night, I got whacked in the head. "Oh, Alice, a fly ball hit you in the head?" No, no, no. Something so much worse I wonder how many of you can handle this.

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A BIRD POOPED ON MY HEAD!

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You know all those slo-mo replays of JFK driving down Dealey Plaza? Yeah, that's how I see it play out in my head. I'm sitting there (in grainy black and white) innocently waving to my girls on the field. Bystanders are leaning on trees, munching on popcorn. The sun is shinning as a shadow, a teeny tiny little shadow slowly glides across the bleachers then BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

I'm hit! I'm hit! The poo splatters down my cheek and onto my pants. Witnesses would later say there was no bird. They saw no bird. Yet the evidence was right there on my face! A quick investigation was launched and the culprit was soon found sneering down from a nearby electrical wire. I glared, he glared, we all glared. It was over. He won. He...won.