Progress Report

My grandson called—OK, his mom called and put him on the phone—yesterday afternoon to tell me, “Grandpa, I hit the ball over the fence!” In fact, he did it five times, both a testament to his talent and his mother’s resilience. Clare was pitching to Leo just a month after undergoing a Caeserean. Amazon child, that one. Leo has been putting the ball over a six-foot fence into the neighbor’s yard for the past two months, which isn’t bad for a kid three years and three months old. I said something about him clearing the Green Monster, but he didn’t understand. Monsters give him pause, even the ones he can hit a ball over. So, now, I just tell him what a good job he’s doing. He's hitting the ball at least forty feet, in part because both his parents were college athletes and because he likes to make the ball go far. Clare said he’s striding into pitches, which I think is a good habit. I also suggested she emphasize the good stuff that happens when he follows the ball all the way to the bat. You can never start too early. Now, all I have to do is stick around to watch my grandson play organized ball.