We happened to just complete a run of little league baseball for the season. I'm not crying.
I love watching the boys play ball, however, trying to squeeze in practice, snacks, homework, eating dinner later in the evening, showers, and still tending to a 15 year old girl who wants nothing to do with baseball, had it's challenges.
The other night we ventured over to the field of our rival little league. This was the host field for the awards ceremony which followed the week long City Tournament. Two of the backstops, and the snack bar were clustered together, and in the middle sat a large area of dirt and gravel. Easy clean up and no mowing were the foresight in the design I'm sure.
What happens when you put six teams of baseball players waiting to approach the grassy green field for an awards ceremony on that dirt area? Dust clouds galore.
The boys enjoyed shuffling their feet and raising puffs of dirt. My youngest scooped up gravel in his hands and poured it into the hood of his jacket, "because it's fun." Every one's shoes were covered in a thin layer of dust, and if you were wearing flip flops, like me, dirty feet were the outcome of standing for too long in the dust field.
One man commented on how many children were hunched over scooping up dirt and playing with the gravel. Who needs playground equipment and bicycles? Just grab your children a pile of dirt and gravel.
I was miserable, so I sauntered to the grass area to stop sneezing from the dust, and to shake some of the gravel from the space between my flips and feet.
At what point, I thought, does one go from loving dirt to finding it a nuisance?
It may be immeasurable. I do know this though, I'm not a fan.
I love watching the boys play ball, however, trying to squeeze in practice, snacks, homework, eating dinner later in the evening, showers, and still tending to a 15 year old girl who wants nothing to do with baseball, had it's challenges.
The other night we ventured over to the field of our rival little league. This was the host field for the awards ceremony which followed the week long City Tournament. Two of the backstops, and the snack bar were clustered together, and in the middle sat a large area of dirt and gravel. Easy clean up and no mowing were the foresight in the design I'm sure.
What happens when you put six teams of baseball players waiting to approach the grassy green field for an awards ceremony on that dirt area? Dust clouds galore.
The boys enjoyed shuffling their feet and raising puffs of dirt. My youngest scooped up gravel in his hands and poured it into the hood of his jacket, "because it's fun." Every one's shoes were covered in a thin layer of dust, and if you were wearing flip flops, like me, dirty feet were the outcome of standing for too long in the dust field.
One man commented on how many children were hunched over scooping up dirt and playing with the gravel. Who needs playground equipment and bicycles? Just grab your children a pile of dirt and gravel.
I was miserable, so I sauntered to the grass area to stop sneezing from the dust, and to shake some of the gravel from the space between my flips and feet.
At what point, I thought, does one go from loving dirt to finding it a nuisance?
It may be immeasurable. I do know this though, I'm not a fan.
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