All-American

So began the summer season this past weekend, with the hot, muggy weather, cookouts, the pool and family gatherings. Each year is so different from the last and I often stop to take note of the changes in our children. Now when I say, "please go shuck the corn", they can, and they do it well. I feel like I have not only a band of mess-makers, but also a band of helpers and doers and it's no longer the one woman show it once was.

Of course, they add their special touches to the process.



After eating way too much, there was a mandatory game of wiffle ball. John raced out to the field immediately following dinner with his Radio Flyer loaded down with baseballs, gloves and even a heavy, metal pitching machine (don't really know how he got it in there) so he could throw in a little big boy baseball/hitting practice too.

The game is far from regulation and is more about hitting, running, falling, giggling, rolling around in the grass, stealing bases and trying not to get tagged by Daddy. With the increasing age of the children, so increases the seriousness of the batting.

First up, we have, Miss "enough strikes to exhaust the pitcher".


Followed by our natural who hits best when she tries the least.


Then they get down to business.


It could only have been more American if there were apple pie involved, but there's always next weekend. Meanwhile, they're succeeding in making my heart melt a little more each day.