It’s official: my 7-year-old son can out-throw me.
As spring arrives and the days grow warmer, you've been asking to throw a ball after school almost every day. This is partly because Mom and I had a parenting slip by not signing you up for a spring sport like flag football or baseball. Based on our backyard sessions, I can confidently say you'd excel at either.
Lately, we've been reaching for the football most often. You’ve got a tight spiral down, hitting a stationary target with impressive accuracy. I’ve been pushing you to pass on the run, which takes a bit more finesse—anticipating where your receiver is headed and leading them just right. You're already tossing 30-40 yard bombs with a pretty spiral, a clear sign that all that recess football at school is paying off.
We throw the baseball less often, but you have a solid arm there, too. I’ve never had much of a baseball arm, which might explain why I stepped away from organized baseball in the second or third grade. Meanwhile, your Mom has a real cannon, thanks to years of softball, including her days at Bethel College. Go Pilots. Your catching is coming along, too, though I think a bigger mitt might help you snag those tricky high ones.
We've started batting more, too. You’ve always had a knack for making solid contact. We set up the bases and play with ghost runners. When it’s my turn to bat, you fire fastballs from 10 yards away, daring me to make contact. I can still get enough of them to keep the game competitive.
Some of our best conversations happen in the backyard. I think you put up with my questions about school and friends mostly to keep the game going. You're a nonstop talker, filling our playtime with off-color recess jokes, updates on your favorite athletes, and stories from recent playdates with friends and cousins.
I hope we have many more springs ahead, throwing balls in the grass.
Love,
Dad