Tenball Anyone?

So this morning I remind E that her very first tennis clinic is this afternoon after school. Don't forget, blah, blah, blah, hugs and kisses, blah, blah, blah..and she runs out the door. She calls back over her shoulder, "Mom, do you think I'll get to pitch?"

Bless her heart.

Tennis comes and goes, she does a great job and I think maybe she's getting the hang of it and was just confused this morning, since some of her other friends are playing t-ball. (Not that she'd get to pitch in t-ball, but let's just give her the benefit of the doubt.)

In the car ride home, I overhear her proudly announcing ".....and I hit it over the fence every time!"

We don't get out much.

So tonight on the way home from dinner she asks me "Mom, what was my coach's name?" "E, did he not tell you his name?" "Well, he did but I couldn't hear him because I had on my sunglasses."

Thank goodness she's beautiful, that's all I'm saying.


L