Before children, I proclaimed lots of things would never happen in my house. Most of them have all happened: toys in the living room, the music room becoming the play room, glitter everywhere, a constant "project" on the art table. Last night, though, we had a new one:
Yes...Evan is playing baseball
in the house! Uncle Brian and Aunt D sent a preschool pitching machine for his birthday. By the time it was assembled and Daddy made the run for the requisite batteries, Evan had already bathed and it was past bed time. So, we did what any reasonable parent would do: we let him try it out
just this once in the living room. Who would have thought he would actually make contact? Thankfully it stayed low and only hit the DVDs. Nothing was broken, and Evan thought we were the coolest parents ever. I am totally planning on reminding him of this the next time he is "going to tell Booboo" on me, which is his new response when I ruin his life.
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