Sunday, April 27, 2014

My real, little baseball player

When Bjorn began playing baseball this season, he refused to bathe after his first game. He wanted to keep his uniform on forever - around the house, to sleep, to preschool. I finally convinced him that real adult baseball players smell nice and clean, like baby shampoo and flowers.

Yesterday, after his bath, he stepped onto the bath mat. 

"Do I smell like a real grown up baseball player?"

I leaned over and sniffed him. "Yep. You sure do. Like roses and baseball!"

"Mommy......when I am a real grown up baseball player, will you come to all my baseball games?"

"Yes, Bjorn, I will." I said.

"Mommy......All of them?" he paused before continuing. "Every single single one of them?"

I stopped drying him off, aware that he was asking me a very serious, very important question. I looked right into his eyes, answering the question he didn't ask. "Yes, Bjorn. I will come to every single single one of your baseball games when you are a real grown up baseball player."

I promise to be there for you every time you need me. As you grow up, I will be there. Even when you are a real grown up adult, with real grown up problems, I promise I will still be there every day whenever you need me, for as long as I can.

His face was the face every kid makes when their  parents show up to the school play, or the soccer field, or the preschool doorway at pickup time. Relief mixed with excitement.

She will always be there, he was thinking. 

"I'm always going to play for the Royals. Just like I do now. I am always going to be number 7."

"You know what, Bjorn? That sounds great."

"Number 7, Mommy. Just like you." Before he ran out of the bathroom to get his jammies on, he paused, reached over, and hugged me. My real, little baseball player.

1 comment:

Skyline Spirit said...

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