In E's world, if I say, "Just a minute, bud. I'll help you in just a minute," E will stand at my side with a stopwatch, timing each of those 60 seconds exactly. I know with certainty that when that minute mark expires, E will be tugging on my shirt, reminding me, "Mom, it's been a minute. Are you ready? Huh? Are you?"
He is that literal.
That is why E's recent t-ball adventures were no surprise to me. This is his first year in t-ball, although he has been asking to be on a team since he turned three. This year, we finally caved, thinking that it would be fun for him and more fun for us to watch. I mean, 4 and 5 year olds with gloves that are as long as their arms, pants that are held up with rubber bands, and ball caps that hide their eyes are just a fountain of entertainment waiting to happen. In just practices, kids have run the wrong way, not run at all, and completely missed the stationary ball on the tee. Good stuff. I am considering investing in Depends, because I have a feeling that I may laugh to the point of peeing my pants.
Anyway, since E is relatively new to the great American game, he is still learning the lingo. At one point, his coach yelled, "E. I need you in left field."
E just stood there and stared at him. It was obvious that he had no idea where he was supposed to go. Frankly, I am not even sure he knows his left from his right. (Although we know that his dad does . . . he he!*)
The coach picked up on E's clueless face pretty quickly and gave him a little more direction. "Ethan, go stand behind the shortstop."
Well, E smiled at the coach, turned, and trotted off to his position
. . . about one foot directly behind the shortstop.
He followed his coach's direction to fault.
I just hope that if someday they tell him to run home as he rounds
third . . . he doesn't run toward our house instead.