After a night that was entirely too short, my day seemed entirely too long. In fact, when B came in the front door, crying, after school because he got in trouble for telling the girl who sits next to him how to spell the "S" word (Side note: Why was she asking?), I sent him to his room, and joined him shortly afterwards. We both cuddled up on his bed, and I told him we both needed to start over, so maybe we should just go to sleep and wake up on Saturday.
He was not interested, and I have no idea why. Maybe it was because it was only 3:47...and OU still sucks. (That never gets old.)
Instead, he opted to ground himself from the Xbox for 4 days, because I told him a month was too harsh of a punishment. He was less concerned about video games and more concerned about whether or not he'd be allowed to go bat later that evening.
Long story short, I fell asleep on the couch for two hours. I woke up to BOTH of them playing the Xbox, and I woke up really cranky. Oh, and it was cold. And N was fighting me, just like he did the other morning, on wearing pants and long sleeves to the batting cages that he claimed he didn't want to go to in the first place. B was crying because he said he didn't want to go to the mechanical cages (he's never actually been, just watched his brother), and would rather have someone pitch to him. I was the "someone" that was around, so that was a big negative.
N not only fought with me, but with his dad via telephone over his clothing choices. Yes, I let him wear shorts to school if it's in the 50s, but only because he's inside for a vast majority of the day. The sun isn't going down, the wind isn't blowing, the temperature isn't dropping...you know, all the stuff that leads to sniffles, snot, and coughs.
When we got to the cages in Colleyville, all the while keeping our eyes peeled for the "extremely dangerous escaped convict from Florida," they both started complaining about how cold it was. Score one for Mom. I got them going in the cages, and went in with B, showing him how to stand and swing, turning his body with the bat...and he did really well, especially for his first time.
I'm totally a baseball coach now. I'm not. Really, I'm not. That would be a nightmare. Or hilarious.
After literally 2 hours of batting cages, hands were numb, noses were running, and everyone was starving. N lost his baseball gloves (he thinks they're at his dad's house) so we went to Academy to grab some more. Just in case anyone ever needs me to play baseball: I have a helmet that fits, shoes that fit, and batting gloves that fit. I'm pretty much professional now.
I'm happy to give autographs anytime. It's no trouble.
We headed home, and when we got there, B thought we should cuddle on the couch and watch a movie. I thought that sounded pretty great, so we all piled onto the couch, and I found "The Princess Bride." They've never seen it, and I figured they'd like it. N is in that stage where he claims he doesn't like something at all, but he's totally full of it. He was giggling and smiling, but he absolutely hated it. Naturally. B kept asking who farted, claiming it smelled like pineapple, and then collapsing in giggles that are contagious. The boy laughs like Chip & Dale. You can't NOT laugh when you hear him getting started.
It was so much fun, even with the inevitable bumps, bruises, and injuries that occur when you have two boys who have no control over their limbs.
They get their "spaz" genes from their mother. I own it.
Just call us the next "Three Stooges." I think N's battling me for the one with the most hair.
Aubs
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