Bode begged to go to baseball camp this year. The kid couldn't wait to show the world what he was made of.
Then he went.
It took about two seconds for him to realize that he wasn't top dog. And it took that long for me to realize that the baseball community is a foreign culture of which I am clueless.
Here is Bode before his first day of camp:
Here is Bode on the way to his last day of camp:
Let's just say he doesn't love it.
Sometimes our kids have to do hard things, like spend a week doing something that they aren't that great at and they don't happen to love. And that's ok.
And sometimes you kind of want to die inside when your kid is the only one without a real baseball uniform. Also ok.
If Bode learns nothing else this entire week, I want him to know that he can survive a hard week.
That's life, kid.
I happen to be learning that dragging a crying kid into a baseball practice makes me sweaty and flustered. Also embarrassed.
And that, too, is just life.