Summer started out filled with baseball. Myles loves it. As long as his team wins. His dreams of being drafted by the major leagues before he even enters high school are very vivid. But really he loves the game. He has become one of those guys that can spout off the answer to any baseball trivia question out there. And he's only 12. I've tried to stump him. Can't do it.
He definitely loves the time spent with his friends in the dugout. Loves the snacks from the concession stand. Loves regaling us with his stories of wrongful calls by the umps and glorious plays made in the outfield.
I love how much joy he gets from the sport.
Unfortunately, what I seem to get from the sport is an unfortunate tan. I spent several days following his season opener two summers ago begging my family to take me to the burn unit at the hospital after receiving the worst sunburn of my life. And it left me with a beautiful tan line across the lower portion of my thighs that wouldn't fade until the following spring. Burn scar. I have learned to wear a hat because fine blonde hair doesn't protect the scalp from the sun. And it's extremely painful to blow dry your hair with a sunburned scalp. This year I felt like I'd gained some knowledge in the baseball season sunburn department, but still was left with those unfortunate burns on the small strips that didn't receive quite enough sunscreen.
I'm basically a red hot mess from May through July. And, this year Myles decided he wanted to play fall ball. I sat out in the cool fall air this past Sunday. The weather was really beautiful. Myles had a double header. Since I was prepared for the day to be cool, I wore long sleeves.
Guess what? Back of the hand sunburn.
The sun hates me.
The feeling is becoming mutual.