On Sunday we took Fletcher to see his first baseball game. Our local team, the Round Rock Express, played the Memphis Redbirds.
Fletcher squeaked in under the "12 years old and under" qualification, so he was given a commemorative bat. His father was not so lucky - as they were counting *temporal* age rather than *emotional* age.
Gretchen may come to regret that this happened.
You punks over there want some? Yeah! I'm talkin' to you! Who else would I be talkin' to?
Exploring Mommy's main reason for going to sporting events: lukewarm nachos.
It's not that far down, daddy! I think I could make it.
Explaining the finer points of the infield fly rule to his perplexed daddy. "OK, let me start again. If there are fewer than two outs and more than one man on base..."
Fletcher's friend Aidan has great hair to pull...I mean "play with".
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