Not sure.

I am not sure who's not supposed to be "at the ball-field" more... the boy or myself. Each and every night we (the boy) has a game... there is a reason that I have to be dragged away... of course some of them are my own short-comings.. as in I can only stand to watch my boy sing and dance long enough while playing baseball. I get kind of confused as to whether I am at a review of some sort, or an actual baseball game.

Things were good tonight.... yes, the Pipster had to go to the bathroom, but I told her "too bad so sad" ... you had your chance before we left home. She seemed OK with that harsh decision, and did not tempt for my temper to flare while I was witnessing "ball". The boy even was in his "ballplayer" mode. He behaved like a ball player, in all ways.... he even jumped out of the way, when the ball was heading straight for him...and let the fielder field that quickly travelling little white speedster. He knows what he's doing... I think. Anyways... along comes husbandman.. with little Miss Ellpee. And blip.. like that .. I am home.. with Ellpee and the Pipster. Tonight was Ellpee's turn for acting up... she was totally wacked. Her level of cryability was definitely heightened... and even Mr. Calm-and-cool husbandman had had enough of her. But it's all good...the Pip and I are at home to watch the beginnings of Survivor... and now I can't miss that.

I'll be back for more snail talk..... later.