Baseball season is almost here...

It's early March, there's a foot of snow on the ground, and yet I have the distinct smells of freshly-cut grass and the aluminum of the bats in my nose. Michael's previous glove was made from (I'm embarrassed to say) plastic, so we ventured out and bought him a real, live glove, made from real, formerly-live cows. Or maybe one cow - the glove isn't very big.

Anyway, I've been teaching Michael the proper way to break in the glove, which I can't go into here since it's an ancient family secret, passed down from generation to generation since my great great great grandfather played for the Sienna Wildcats, who won the whole thing back in 1659. Below, however, I've been gracious enough to throw in some pics of what I like to call the 'Constipation' phase of the glove-breaking, where the glove is 'bound up' (hence the name) with rubber bands with a ball inside. I will give you a little tidbit that the glove MUST go under the pillow of the user, or the glove fairies will not visit.

As you can see, Michael looks thrilled. You can just see his eagerness to get out there and play. I will repay his enthusiasm by forcing him to practice every day until his ears bleed. And it'll all be for him. He'll thank me when he's older, I just know it.