I’m going “throwing.” That’s right, “throwing.”
Don’t want to tell my neighbor boy, however. Just the other day his baseball rolled across the street toward my driveway. I thought I’d be nice and help him out, so I ran over, picked it up, and proceeded to throw it to him.
Okay! Yes, I’m being generous with the word “throw.”
He’s still quite young, though. I tell myself it’s possible he just saw my “throw” a bit like his own.
Don’t think his handsome Daddy thought that. He looked like he couldn’t believe I was going to try to throw him a ball overhand. I could tell, too, that he didn’t expect me to make it across the street.
Nevertheless, He smiled broadly – probably his way of stifling a belly laugh. He may have just been protecting his son, but he lunged sideways as if he meant it when I hurled the ball low and to his right. He even pretended not to mind when he had to go into the woods to retrieve it. Taking advantage of a teachable moment, he told his son to say, “Thank you.”
“Seriously,” I thought. No wonder kids learn so quickly not to trust adults. Embarrassed, I tried soothing my bruised ego by reminding myself that he’s a fireman, a natural rescuer.
So, I suppose a “throwing” date could prove quite interesting. As the anticipation builds, I’m kinda wishing I could take a handsome fireman with me just in case there arises a need for a rescuer in this upcoming date with myself . Maybe that can be next year’s project.
Ponder & Chat: What’s your best “throwing” story?
