So the boys have Hand, Mouth and Foot Disease (HMFD). Yay.
(Not to be confused with hoof-and-mouth disease â€“ which afflicts well, animals with hooves.) I have been assured that HMFD is a common childhood virus of the coxsackievirus genre (capable of taking out an entire preschool class in a single afternoon).
HMFD. Making cherubic toddlers look like acned teenagers.
Aside from a severely cranky night-owl creating an up-all-night Zombie Dad, by this afternoon both boys were showing signs of going stir crazy in quarantine. It was a gorgeous spring day. The whole family could probably use some fresh air.
You know what sounds like a good idea? Bringing out the t-ball set and introducing muppets to baseball in the backyard. Bat, ball and brothers for the first time. What could POSSIBLY go wrong…
Youâ€™re never too young to start practicing.
Last night, in the bottom of the 9th, Destroy marched up to the television and switched the channel over to the hockey game. Clearly some athletic intervention was needed.
(Note: I have nothing against hockey and will encourage the cold sport if that is what my son decides his calling is. However, you do not change the channel in the bottom of the 9th. Even if your team is a touchdown behind as part of their pitch-perfect emulation of the movie Major League.)
The muppets technique leaves a wee bit to be desired.
Jon set up the tee. Destroy took hold of the bat. And poked the ball of the tee with the handle like he was getting ready to shoot a game of pool.
We tried again.
The tee was set back up. The ball was precariously placed atop the tip. I attempted to coerce Destroy to stand behind the setup and take a stance. Just in time for Search to run by and swipe the plastic ball.
Only he didnâ€™t have the ball. Search had that. No matter â€“ Destroy, with tee dragging behind him, was playing keep away along the side of the house.
Clutching the softball-size t-ball, Search went in search of more interesting sports.
We spent the next five minutes kicking a pseudo soccer ball across the lawn. My little left-footed love made contact Every. Time. Huh. Wouldnâ€™t have picked that kid as the leftieâ€¦
â€œHe kinda looks like a soccer player,â€ sighed Jon. (His motto as a baseball coach in a prior life having been, â€œHit a soccer player, win a prize.â€ I told you we were a baseball family.) GrampaStavo will be THRILLED.
Shortly thereafter, a tantrum over the wayward tee caused the screen door to fly open and Lucky the Possessed Pony to flip over. Each muppet fought tooth and nail to beat the eight-second timer on the bucking bronco/tee.
Clearly miserable and weak with illness, today we tried out t-ball, soccer, hockey, dodge ball, basketball (both boys can seriously dunk the ball in the bucket), billiards, motocross racing, horse racing (with a still-standing Lucky giving a nod to todayâ€™s Kentucky Derby), rodeo wrangling and gymnastics (thatâ€™s a whole other â€œhow can we kill ourselves todayâ€ blog post).
Letâ€™s consider today a sports sampler platter.
PLAY BALL! Beat those germs!