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Just wanted to share a quick story about the Cheese's first tee ball practice.  Here are the highlights:
 
The Cheese, totally fired up, runs up to the coach first thing and informs him that he is "really good at baseball" to which his coach replies, "I can tell!  You look like a great baseball player!"  I like the coach immediately.
 
As I am yelling at the Monkey to put his shirt back on (and taking his picture in the process) the Cheese gets hit in the nose with a ball and gets a bloody nose.  That's right--ten minutes into his first official team practice and he already has a major sports injury.  I'm instantly concerned that he has inherited my athletic ability.
 
Surprisingly, the Cheese heads back out with enthusiasm to take a spot on first base.  The kids are practicing hitting the ball off the tee.  No matter where it goes, the coach yells, "Throw it to first!"  The Cheese catches nothing and begins to cry.  At this point, he is the only child who has cried or bled.
 
Practice ends well with a mommy passing out animal crackers and apple juice.  He's all smiles as he gets his team jersey and hat.  They are the Dodgers and the coach has had their number and their names put on their jerseys.  The Cheese is number 11. 
 
This means nothing to me until I we come home, call the Golfer on our web-cam where he tells us that number 11 was the Golfer's dad's number all through college.  The Golfer's dad played both baseball and football all through college and was quite the star.  So naturally, the Golfer's very first jersey number when he was a kind was number 11.

Here's what's weird about the whole thing.  We didn't ask for the number 11, it was just given to us.  Cool coincidence, yes.  But what sent shivers throughout my entire body was that the Golfer's dad passed away a couple of years before the Cheese was born.  We miss him dearly, but what hurts the most is that our boys will never know him.  Seeing that jersey with a big number 11 on it was like he was saying, "I'm here.  I'm watching."

What's even extra bizarre was that just this very morning in the car, the Cheese asked me why his first name is what it is.  I explained that he was named after Daddy's daddy who is in heaven now.  The Cheese said, "I don't know what he looks like."  So I said, "I need to show you lots and lots of pictures of him."  Then I of course got too choked up to say anything else.
 
Now I'm the one who's crying.  It's going to be a long season.