More Pee-Ball Exploits

Happy Fatherhood Friday everyone! On your way to the potty be sure to swing by dad-blogs.com to check out all of the great bloggers over there. You'll feel relieved It's a home run!

So "Pee-Ball" season is in full stream swing.

It gives me great pride to watch Big Brother play t-ball. His self-confidence has blossomed so much in the last year. No longer timid, he dives right in to the practices and games, following instructions, throwing, swinging (and missing), running as fast as he can motor, and having fun--all without need for prompting or reassurance from Mom-E or Dad-E.

I couldn't be prouder of him.

And so, for blogging purposes, the attention turns this season to Little Brother, who's overactive bladder prevents us from just sitting and watching Big Brother play keeps things interesting.

Just two anectdotes to keep you amused.

1. Little Brother got himself dressed before going to Big Brother's first game. What we didn't realize until we got to the field--and the first time he had to pee--wss that he apparently decided to GO COMMANDO.

I guess it is helpful to have "easy access" when you ask to go potty 5 times during a 45 minute game.

Fortunately for us he didn't parade his crack around (too much).

Note to self: underwear check now required before leaving the house.

2. At one of the practices, I turned myself into a rather irritable human coat rack. I had brought all 3 boys to practice, and was charged with getting everyone settled in before Mom-E met up with us.

Here's what happened:
-I helped Big Brother and Little Brother out of the minivan, and helped Big Brother get into his t-ball clothes.

-I then strapped Bab-E Brother to my chest in the Baby Bjorn.

-Next, I loaded up my arms with a diaper bag, snack bag, 2 adult-sized folding chairs, and 1 toddler-sized folding chair.

-Little Brother promptly announced he had to go #2, but REFUSED to poo in the Port-O-Potty. And by refused, I mean plopped down on the ground, kicking and screaming, while playing with dirt, refusing to get up. And he announces that he wants to go HOME to go potty (which is only about 5 minutes from the practice field).

-Big Brother refused to walk 10 yards over the baseball field by himself (practice was moments away from starting), so that I could assist Little Brother (and Bab-E Brother, diaper bag, snack bag, and 3 folding chairs) over to the potty. He even refused escort from a friend's mom.

-Bab-E Brother starts screaming inconsolably in hunger.

-Mom-E arrives to find her coat-rack husband in Bedlam, and immediately heads back home with Little Brother and Bab-E Brother for pooping and feeding, respectively. We transfer Big Brother's carseat to our other vehicle so that I can bring him home after practice, and Mom-E heads home in the mini-van.

-Big Brother no sooner gets started with practice than I realize that MY KEYS TO THE OTHER CAR ARE STILL IN THE MINIVAN.

Nite to self: repeat the following mantra, "I am not Charlie Brown. I am not Charlie Brown. I am not Charlie Brown."

Have a good weekend,
Busy-Dad-E