Baseball and the ever amusing Falsetto

Yesterday, Myles had a baseball game that was held at a baseball field in the neighborhood that I grew up in. I had a lot of fun driving my family all through my old neighborhood and pointing out the houses of my childhood friends. I drove them past my elementary school, the park I used to play at, and finally past my old house. It looked nothing like I remembered it. NOTHING. It was a little disturbing to me. Shouldn't that house be kept original so that when I become famous it can be turned into a museum? People cannot tour through my old bedroom, when there has been an addition to the house, which I'm quite certain has changed the perfectness of my former bedroom. Did they dare to remove the blue floral wallpaper that so perfectly coordinated with my Holly Hobby bedspread? I hope not.
Anyway, the entire neighborhood seems different. The trees grew to huge heights, most of the houses have changed, and most likely, most of the people have moved. The kids were quickly growing tired of my stories of which trees I used to be able to climb to the top of, which cul-de-sac was the scene of my getting run over by a Big Wheel (I'll explain this story in a later post), and the house that used to belong to the most evil, scary boys I knew. "Ok, Mom. That's great. Where are the baseball fields?" So, I drove us to the baseball fields and everyone quickly ran from the car.
Now, first things first. Where the hell is summer? I think this baseball season is about half over and I have yet to go to a game where I'm not freezing. Our pool is open, but if it's not warm enough for shorts to be worn, then there is no way I'm setting foot anywhere near that pool.
The boys start warming up before the game and one of the other moms asks me if the umps are any older than our boys. I look over at them and discover that this game is being umped by 12 year olds. Myles is on the 11 year old team. And these 12 year olds are wearing sunglasses and are visibly drunk with power. The coaches were even being ordered around by these little umps. Then the game started and Savannah noticed something strange when the ump would call a strike. She and I are both easily bored at sporting events and have amused ourselves many times by making fun of the way the umps call strikes. Well, it turns out that our 12 year old ump had the funniest strike call ever. It was falsetto strike boy. I had to take a video.

The game was a great one for us, though. Arlington won 24 to 6. And the boys were worried that the Omaha teams were going to be tough to beat. Myles got 2 hits and earned himself 2 packs of baseball cards. Woo-hoo!

Now, there is a True Blood marathon on HBO tonight and I have to go tuck myself in to some Vampire love.