Help Me

Well, God has a sense of humor I suppose. That's the only way to explain that my son is likely going to be an athlete. The boy spends all day throwing balls around the house. It's his favorite word, and he's getting to be a pretty good shot on the mini basketball goal we bought him. What's a non-sport playing, geeky father to do?

Last night when I put him in his crib, I left a small rubber basketball in the crib with him, which he was cradling next to him when I tucked him in. This morning, he woke us up over the monitor saying "Ball! Ball! Ball!" over and over again, where he usually just starts off babbling or saying "Daddy!" until someone comes and gets him.

I'm so pitiful I didn't even know what the game of "Horse" means for basketball until Marissa explained it to me. Jack basically plays Horse by himself, and moves to different positions around the living room to throw the ball towards the hoop. He even crouches down and shoots the ball up with a fling on the wrists like real basketball players do. For an 18 month old, he has a pretty good technique, or so I've been told.

The Past Weekend

We had a good time over the last weekend. Saturday morning we got up earlier than normal and headed out to the zoo to meet up with Uncle Paul and Aunt Ferlie and cute little Rani. Jack and Rani both love to ride in the Radio Flyer wagon we recently bought that has a built in awning, and lots of people at the zoo would ask us about it.

I would post some pictures of the zoo visit, but the camera is starting to mess up and didn't take many of the pictures that I thought I was taking. Maybe it made a few too many cave trips.