The tee-ball stand telescopes in and out of the convenient five-gallon bucket that we have loaded up with plastic whiffle balls and bases.
We use this all the time.
I usually keep it in the car, so we have it handy when we're out.
And when we're home, I'll drag it out to use during Cub Scout and Daisy meetings, when the kids are getting rowdy and need to blow off some steam. We've also been playing it a lot in the early evening, just before dinner.
Usually, it's just me against the kids, which is an unfair advantage because with four of them, they always load up the bases and will score 10 runs before I'm able to get one of them out. As a result, it will often happen that 20-minutes in to a game, when I'm dripping sweat and the kids are laughing like little hyenas, I'll move the bases from our front yard to across the street, effectively adding 75 feet of length to the distance they need to run and be "safe."
Then, I'll cackle as they all complain, "NO FAIR, MOM!"
And I'll say, "NO FAIR? I'll tell you what's no fair ... FOUR AGAINST ONE IN BASEBALL!"
Sometimes, Louie will come out and help me. He's pretty fast and will hustle after the balls that the kids knock out of the yard.
He really is a wonderful little puppy. If you can get past his propensity to eat used prophylactics and feminine products. I started to write about that in my post last night, but then deleted it. Oh, but if it was only so easy to delete the image from my mind.
Sorry folks. You're in it with me. What I experience, you experience.
Sometimes it's a gift, sometimes it's a curse.
Now ... BATTER UP!
