William is playing t-ball this summer. Technically, he is playing t-ball on a team full of other kids who are playing baseball. We're not sure how that happened exactly. But it doesn't seem to bother him.
Look how hard he's concentrating on hitting here. He's trying to get his swing to be level:
Sometimes he succeeds. Sometimes he doesn't. Sometimes...it rains.
Also, sometimes--often--he knocks the tee over.
Here's my other little athlete.
Andrew is talking up a storm these days--oh, my God, you should her him say "Mama" because it is To.Die.For--but his favorite word still seems to be "ball." He says it with a very drawling Southern accent, so it comes out sounding like "baawwwwwww-www." Why he was crying in this picture is sort of a mystery to me, and I took the picture. He had been toddling contentedly around the yard, clutching the soccer ball. Who knows. There is no crying in baseball, but apparently there is crying in soccer.
Editorial note: And actually, there is also crying in t-ball. William forgot his glove last night, and he bawled until another mom offered him a spare glove. Problem solved. Crisis averted. Play resumed.