I took my son to Opening Day of the 2012 Major League Baseball season last week. We had a fantastic time! He made it onto the local television network’s pre-game show, his stamina was sky high, his favorite players hit home runs, and the home team won. You can’t get much better than that.
This kid doesn’t get passionate about much. His mother, that’s one. Baseball, that’s two. He so far doesn’t care much for apple pie, but good golly I bet that particular passion for pastry is just around the corner! But he does love baseball. He even bats with the batters from his high chair while watching games on TV at home. He didn’t understand why the baseball season was over just because the St. Louis Cardinals won the World Series in October.
You may be wondering, “Why didn’t you take his twin sister along?” That’s easy–because the only reason she would agree to attend a baseball game is for the cotton candy. And when I refuse to drop nine bucks on what amounts to sixty cents of sugar and food coloring, she cries. And what is there none of in baseball? Crying. There is no crying in baseball. Man up, sister.
It seems obvious that twin siblings would have their own interests and that we as parents should take care to foster and curate these expressions of individuality. But it’s still all so new–the twins are only four years old–and sometimes it just seems so hard. As parents of twins, our attention has been pulled in double the directions since the day they entered the world. Sometimes I just want a break from the chaos. Like, to physically rest my mind and my body from all the yap yap and demands and the wonderfully overwhelming tornado of activity they’ve brought to our lives.
But other times, like last Friday, it was really wonderful to commit the time to spend hours of one-on-one time with and undivided attention to just one twin. I had the luckiest job in the world that day–to bring one of my kids to his passion, witness him enjoying it for hours, and even enjoying it myself.
Thanks for the great afternoon, kiddo!