The Making of an Athlete

Two months shy of his third birthday, my grandson can hit a ball off a tee with authority, thanks to his mother. Considering Clare has been pregnant with her second child since January, that’s no small feat. Leo will stand there and hit until he feels the need to shout “Homerun!” and run to the alley, after which he may turn the bat into a croquet mallet and start hitting the ball that way. Either way, he hits ball hard. Clare is forever working on his stance; for the longest time, he would crowd himself, with the result being the tee would go as far as the ball when he hit it. That’s no longer a problem. During the winter and spring, Clare and Chris took Leo to Saturday park district stuff for the wee people. One of the works saw Leo throw and said, “Your dad must be working with you,” to which Chris said, “No, it’s his mom.” In their household, different parents teach different sports. When he sees a picture of Clare playing in high school or college, Leo will say, “That’s mommy playing baseball.” He says the same of players in the NCAA Softball World Series. At some point, he’ll learn girls play a different game. But his mother will keep teaching him how to hit.