Hatless in the Field

During this evening's t-ball game, Benjamin lost his cap.  I don't know what happened.  One inning, he had his cap; the next inning, no cap.  All the team members have matching caps, so, presumably, one of the other kids picked up and put on Ben's cap.  We still don't know where it is.  You would think, at the end of the game, if a kid walked over to his mom wearing a cap, when he or she previously had NO cap, that the mother would say, "Hey, that's not your cap.  Put it back."  However, judging by the way the other kids hunkered down in their caps and the other moms stuffed caps into their purses, I guess the other mother just said, "Nice work-- way to score a new cap!"


Anyway, once Ben lost his cap, he was DONE with the t-ball game.  Boy just sat down in the dirt and quit.  In the interest of full disclosure, the missing cap has not been my son's only obstacle to t-ball-game-completion.  On other days, Benjamin has also quit due to heat, wind, hunger, and exhaustion.  I do not see a long future for Ben in t-ball.  But, I don't care.  Those saintly coaches continue to encourage, and I'm just thrilled my boy shows up and plays along, when he does play along.



The funny thing happened in the car on the way home:

Mom: "What do you think happened to your cap?"
Benjamin: "I don't know.  Some kid took it."
Mom: "Well, hopefully, it will turn up next time.  If not, you can wear another ball cap."
Benjamin: "Yeah, funny, though-- my hat should be easy to spot."
Mom: "Why?"
Benjamin: "I would think it would be saggy, you know, hangy-down on some other kid."
Mom: "What do you mean?"
Benjamin: "Well, I'm pretty sure I have the biggest head on the team."