Today was Henry's last game of the regular season. We have playoffs this week (and here's where I apologize, because if I was a more sporty mom, the kind who knew what to say in such situations so as not to embarrass her son when he looks back upon such things once he's old enough to read them, I would know how to say this more delicately), but we're not so good and we're gonna get creamed. So I'm pretty sure playoffs won't last very long.
Listen. I didn't say we weren't the cutest. Or the trying-hardest. We have heart. We have spunk. We play by the rules. We just don't really win, so I think the whole playoff thing isn't going to take so long.
Anyway, today was the last game for ol' Hanko. He started off getting to play first base. While he was warming up, a ball bounced off the ground and hit him right in the eye. So he ended up sitting out the first inning to ice it. Poor dude. I think the worst part of it was that he wanted to play first base so badly and he missed out on it. The game after that point was okay, but I think it threw him and he looked to be kind of nervous. We played a tough team and though we held our own, Henry ended up crawling into his shell a little bit and I didn't see the same bold kid that played Thursday night against the parents.
But by the end of the night tonight before bed, he seemed fully recovered. We made a family plan to meet up on the back porch for campfire time once it was dark (translation: sit around a fire pot in our patio furniture and eat Oreos). Henry ate about ten Double Stufs, so I'd say he was doing okay. He also dragged out a book of Weird Al History and regaled us all with Weird Al factoids by the light of his tiny LCD book light and the glow of the Sterno in the fire pot.
This is a new level of exhaustion, but it's happy-through-exhaustion I'm feeling tonight.
(And relief... I'm ready for baseball to be over until next year.)