I am so enamored with Megan that I stopped and stared lovingly at a bundle of her hairs today. It's crazy. I'm crazy. I stood there with a knotty, staticky hairball that I had just plucked from the fabric upholstery in my car. I was tidying up the passenger-side backseat. That's where Megan sits, which is evident based on crumb proliferation and the things in her door compartment (hair bands, barrettes, stickers, markers, plastic gems and jewelry, lip gloss, mosaic craft pieces, little stuffed animals, and so on). It's astonishing really, how very excellent my daughter is at generating and depositing crumbs. It's embarrassing also, if I ever have backseat passengers other than my kids. Oh Megan, I love you so much. I'm happy you're only eight, still very bouncy and girlish and cute. And crabby as shit sometimes, but oh well, you're a woman; it's like trying to control the weather. I better change the subject....
Michael's baseball team is on a roll. It's my team also, I suppose, since I'm the head coach. The regular season was hard on us. We took the lowest seed into the playoffs, but Michael and company stayed upbeat, and now we're tough as nails. We've won 4 of our last 5 including playoff victories over the #2 and #3 seeds. Let me put it this way: We're headed to the championship game. We're getting the bounces now and playing great baseball. My consistent encouragement and optimism wore them down, even as we joked – therapeutically, uproariously, awkwardly – about the Bad News Bears. The tweaks we made to swings and throwing motions, among other things, helped, but I'm sure it's only because we have a good clubhouse, as they say in the bigs :) Good vibes, good chemistry; we couldn't be held down for an entire season. Michael is a hitting machine. And my assistant coach is awesome, as are the dads who help. I'm mostly sitting back now and watching the team kick butt, from worst to first.
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