It’s nice to be wanted. It’s especially nice to be wanted when the people responsible for it are children.
I have two nephews who each have the energy of an Indianapolis race car. Jimmy and Craig, who are five and four respectively, love baseball and are actually pretty good at it for their ages.
So I found myself, on a warm August afternoon, walking up the driveway to my parent’s place when I noticed the two power plants were there for a visit. At the ready were the bats and gloves. Jimmy raced over to me, before I reached the front door, and said Craig and he wanted me in the backyard to play baseball with them. Looking forward to a little fun, I headed to the stadium.
Of course it felt good to be looked upon as the uncle who could show them the finer aspects of the sport. I had visions of fame in my head, seeing them accept their awards twenty years from now as MVP’s, and thanking me for all their success.
As I reached the spot where we would play, near my father’s garden, I stopped. The boys had to lay out the ground rules. As I looked into the eyes of these future stars, Jimmy said, with the authority of a field general.
“Craig is going to hit, I’m going to pitch, and we need you to be the crowd.”
Like I said, it’s nice to be wanted.
