Other, Better, Things

We had Leo over yesterday, part of the preparations for the arrival of his baby sister. My daughter has raised her son to expect hitting a ball between the time he gets out of pre-school and supper, weather permitting. Yesterday, it just happened to be at Grandma and Grandpa’s. I’m amazed to see the course of his development. For a while, now, he’s wanted people to pitch to him. The kid’s going on three years, three months, so this is pretty unique, at least to me. I can’t say that he showed particular talent hitting live pitching, at least not until yesterday. Two balls went into the neighbor’s yard and one ball slammed off the garage window; the ball’s plastic, so no damage. That’s the thing. The ball’s plastic, between the size of a baseball and a twelve-inch softball; it shouldn’t go that far, but did yesterday. By spring, Leo should be moving onto the bat his mother used at that age, similar in size to a Little League model. It’ll be plastic, which means I’m less interested in his power than in him making steady contact because the barrel will be half the size of the one he’s using now. I can’t wait for spring. And it has nothing to do with the Sad Sox.