Baseball

Riley, it seems, is addicted to baseball. Truth be told, he's addicted to most sports, and is happiest when playing just about anything that involves a ball. Part of me blames Wrigley for this, part of me attributes it to the fact that we did not let Riley watch TV for the first 2-1/2 years of his life and therefore spent much of our time outside playing, and part of me thinks it's just genetics. Apparently Casey was quite obsessed with baseball growing up too (not that he's really outgrown that much - have I mentioned that he wants his dad to paint a replica of the Green Monster in our "man cave"?). But still, Riley is obsessed. He knows the words to "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." He will sit still (a small miracle in itself) and actually watch a baseball game. He knows the name to all of the local teams: the Dash (minor league team), the Deacons (Wake Forest's team) and the Demons (the high school team). He will gladly watch any of them play. He seems to follow the concepts - knowing which team has the "bad guys" and which is the good guys. But the best part of all is watching him play baseball in the back yard. He wants to play every night after he gets home from school and will sometimes actually cry when it's time to eat dinner because he doesn't want to come inside. Casey (fortunately or unfortunately, I can't decide which) has coached him to say "Laser Show" each and every time he makes contact with the ball. He has also taught him who Dustin Pedroia is. It's pretty funny, although I'm sure our neighbors are really sick of hearing "Laser Show" over and over, night after night. I guess that's a good sign though, in terms of how much he actually makes contact with the ball. I confess that I don't know much about what almost-three-year-old boys are capable of, but I think it's pretty impressive that at least 75% of the time, he actually hits the ball... which is being pitched to him (no tee for this kid anymore - he gave that up a few months ago). Throwing is equally impressive, although we still have yet to determine whether he is right or left handed. So, as a reward for being completely potty trained (yes, he even wears underwear at night and stays dry), we bought him a baseball glove. And then proceeded to buy him a baseball glove for his other hand later that week when we decided maybe we had guessed wrong about which hand he should be throwing with - very confusing. He seems to rotate between the two gloves, so who really knows. No matter, we're just banking on his career in MLB to get us through the retirement years. Sample video of his batting prowess to come soon.