This could also be titled, "Sam doesn't know how to take appropriate photographs".
Anyhow, this was my third year coaching T Ball.
It went pretty darn decent.
All my parents were great to okay with one notable exception.
But he was one of those guys that it was pretty obvious from the get go that there would be no pleasing him either because I was a tiny chick who was foolish enough to think I could wrap my pretty little head around sports or because I just plain wasn't him.
Either way, no big.
I really loved my team, awesome kids!
Sam tried to be semi-supportive (he just doesn't care for sports) and he at least came to most games.
Since I never have pictures of me doing anything ever, I asked him to get a few decent shots of me.
(This goes on and on, but I got sick of looking at my chubby hiney so I didn't put them up. Sam claims he got my best feature. Not sure if he was being adorable or bratty but either way he got the stink eye.)
I'm probably telling these kiddos one of two thing:
1. Take turns getting the ball (I try to teach kids not to be ball hogs)
2. Stop playing in the grass/dirt
Xander was not so much into play ball as he was into goofing around and a mitt on his head would have done more that the mitt on his hand.
So, there it is. This is apparently what people see when they come to a T Ball game.
(If you ever have the chance, you should coach too. It really is a lot of fun, even when you have high maintenance parents to contend with.)