Stop the insanity
Good idea, sounds like fun: Signing up your 7-year-old son for a baseball clinic with the Mount Mercy College baseball team.
Becomes a sanity/endurance check when: Clinic day arrives -- in late April, no less -- and it's barely above freezing, with a stiff northwest wind.
We went to the clinic. It was well-run and probably taught our son a lot.
But it was COLD, man. Bitterly, harshly, bone-numbingly COLD.
I know, I'm whining. But our 3-year-old son is a pretty good barometer of these things.
He insisted on going along to the clinic, of course, even though he was too young to sign up. And we even got permission from the organizers to let him participate in a fly-ball drill with the older kids.
But after one round, he came running off the field and pronounced, matter-of-factly, "I'm done. Too cold. Time to go home."
If HE's backing out that early, you KNOW it's cold.
Mom took the 3-year-old home, since he's still recovering from a vicious ear infection. But our 7-year-old and I, we stuck it out. I'll give him credit, he stayed tough out there -- winter coat, stocking cap and all, going through all the paces.
And me? I kept telling myself we were getting our $10 worth.
But it seemed so unnatural, so -- well -- INSANE.
Hey, it's part of the parent gig. Just wish I'd worn a sweatshirt or something.
I mean, it was COLD.