We have been to the park.
We have caught a frog.
Which is living in a specialized frog tank on my kitchen counter.
We have been to football practice.
We have caught the ball.
Which was thrown rather wildly.
We have showered.
We have gone outside to play baseball in the cul de sac with nine teenagers.
Because they asked the boy be their outfielder.
The outfield is in our driveway.
The spontaneous baseball game is still going on.
Our mailbox is second base.
The boy is the youngest one out there, by at least six years.
It doesn’t seem to matter, because the big boys are still throwing the wiffle ball to him, and everyone is laughing, and everyone is clapping.
Everyone laughed and clapped at football practice.
Everyone laughed and clapped when the frog was caught at the park. Except, of course, for the frog himself, who cursed the fact that he didn’t hop just a bit faster.
I wish summer could go on for at least another month…