Dad's on the Couch Archive

Ah, spring. Season of daffodils, bunny rabbits, longer days and all other things renewal-themed. It is also, however, a season of convergence in which just about every activity the boys have ever been involved with competes for attention. Karate, belt tests, D.A.R.E. basketball tournament, homework club, religion, sleepover birthday parties, regular birthday parties, parades, Easter, book reports and every pesky little side project in school that they're trying to get in before the end of the year... and then just to add insult to injury: little league.

I understand of course that I shouldn’t complain, really. Happy healthy boys with fun, fulfilling lives and all that. But still, little league? Just the thought of the endless hours sitting on an ice cold aluminum bleacher early in the season and then sizzling, sun baked bleachers by the end of the season is enough to make my butt go numb already. Second only to the butt-numbing quality of little league, however, is its uniquely mind-numbing quality. I can’t, after all, watch a bunch of 10-year-olds alternately whiff balls and walk in runs for very long before my eyes glaze over and I lose my will to live.

But, as my Lovely Bride is fond of reminding me, it’s not about me, it’s all about the kids. Yeah, I know, and I’ll still keep taking the boys as long as they want… but should you find yourself at a little league game someday and notice a guy sitting on the bleachers with that look on his face, you’ll know who it is. Bah.