By the end of the season, my kids were pros at hitting the ball every time, even C.
She told me after one game, “Mom, I did somefing wifout da somefing” (hit the ball without the T).
I was pretty proud, especially considering she cried the first few games because “she didn’t like that game” and everyone “made her run too much.”
But she sure was the cutest little T-ball player around.
M loved batting. Fielding, not so much. He could be seen picking up dirt and throwing it in the air as the ball went by.
And cousin Jentri
We got M a little more official looking by about mid season. No more sweats and Ops.
End of the year pizza and water balloons.
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