I just wrapped up another season coaching tee ball, and if you’ve never spent a spring trying to organize eleven 5-to-7-year-olds, I highly recommend it.
At any given moment, one kid is paying attention to the batter, two are digging holes, one is picking flowers in the outfield, and somebody is almost always lying flat on the ground looking at a worm. Honestly, it’s impressive any baseball gets played at all.
The funny thing is that by the end of the season, they actually start looking like a team. The same kids who couldn’t remember which base to run to in April are suddenly cheering for each other and arguing about who gets to play first base. A couple of parents told me their kids now love baseball, which was nice to hear because there were definitely days where I wasn’t sure anyone was listening to a word I said.
Father’s Day has changed a lot over the years too. When I was a kid, it mostly involved handing my dad some sort of homemade gift from school. Usually it featured construction paper, a questionable amount of glue, and a drawing that looked absolutely nothing like him. He loved every single one of them (at least that’s what he told me.)
Now I’m the one receiving those gifts. My kids still haven’t figured out how many fingers I have, and apparently my head is about twice the size of the rest of my body. I wouldn’t change a thing. The cards are currently spread across my desk and they’ll probably stay there longer than they should.
The best part now is watching my dad as a grandfather. Somehow all the rules that were firmly enforced when I was growing up have completely disappeared. Dessert before dinner? Sure. Extra candy? Why not. Staying up late? Sounds good. Apparently grandparenting comes with a different handbook than parenting.
This year we’re keeping Father’s Day pretty simple. We’re heading over to Marshfield Country Club and spending time with family. There will also be a bouncy house, which feels like a strange Father’s Day activity until you have young kids and realize every event eventually includes a bouncy house.
I’ve already been informed that I’m expected to participate. At my age, entering a bouncy house feels less like recreation and more like a calculated physical risk, but we’ll see how it goes…
One thing I’ve learned from having four kids is that the days rarely look the way you expect them to. The best stories usually come from the moments that weren’t planned anyway. A random conversation in the car. A tee ball game where nobody remembers the score. A homemade card that somehow ends up being saved for years.
Those are the things you remember.
To all the dads, granddads, and father figures reading this, I hope you have a great Father’s Day weekend. And if there’s a bouncy house involved, stretch first.
Happy Father’s Day from the Nap family!
Rob
