Last night was a good night.

I had been fighting a sinus issue all day, and when I got home, I thought, “There is just no way in hell I can go to an outdoor baseball game today.  No way.”

Of course, I totally ended up going.

It was a calm night, with rain noticeably around us, but never once did we get a sprinkle.  We said hey to The Boy and perched a row above BioMom and her new husband.  The game started and all was well.

I really do love baseball season.  It’s my favorite sport.  I don’t enjoy watching it so much, but I love being outdoors during such a great time of year.  I love the smell of popcorn and the multitudes of siblings playing wall-ball while the game goes on. 

The Boy went up to bat and we all cheered him on.  I’m always the one that yells, “C’mon, Comer!  Hit a homer!” and then I snicker because I’m lame. (Although I learned last night that the new stepdad is equally as lame and we found things funny that made others groan.)

He hit the ball, hard, making that PING that I love so much.  The ball went deep into the outfield, and that kid RAN.  We were all screaming like crazy as he rounded third and slid home, and he heard us all going nuts in the bleachers.

About five minutes after, I heard The Boy scream, “SARAH!” from the dugout.  I holler back, “What?”.  He says, “COME HERE!”

So I teeter down from the top row of bleachers and wander over.  His blue eyes are set off by his flushed cheeks as I lean down to him.  He grins from ear to ear and asks, “Did you see that run?”

It sounds really stupid, but it made my night that he called me over there just to ask me that.