This time of year our oldest little Man plays Tee-Ball. He has been playing baseball since he could sit up in the yard and hold his plastic bat. I would squat behind him holding the bat in front of him, throw the ball into the air, quickly grip his hands to the bat with my hands over his, and then hit the ball. He would laugh so hard at his pregnant Mommy, but we were having fun. Then, when he turned two, he receivedhis first little T-Ball set for his birthday. He loved every minute!! We would set up the tee, mark the trees as bases, put Anna Brooke in the stroller over to the side and play all morning. Whrn he turned three, he graduated to a foam bat and wiffle balls. (Did I spell wiffle right? Or is it wuffle?) He was getting better, and prouder. When he turned five, he could play real T-Ball. We signed him up, paid the money and waited until the first practice. He was more exited than he had ever been in his life. Enough babbling about my boy growing up. Last Saturday was