Baptism and baseball

A day after the death of the pope, my children were baptised into the Catholic church. Below is a picture with godparents. We all had a nice lunch with gifts afterwards.



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Update, 5 April
I forgot to mention that before the baptism got underway, Shelby, in all her traditional flamboyance, called the deacon old because he had grey hair. It was typical Shelby but got a good laugh out of everyone else.

Oh, and while I got some good photos, I got no video of the event because my honors student little brother, who is a master computer and console video game player, doesn't know how to push the little red "REC" button on a camcorder. Sure, it looked like he pushed it, but apparently, he just touched it, because there's no new footage on the tape.
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Post-baptismal activities included almost three hours of baseball practice for Darby and I. It should only have been almost two hours, but dumb daddy over-compensated for daylight savings. Having nearly been burned by it this morning (woke up with 40-minutes to get the girls ready for Sunday school, mass, and baptism which were back to back to back), I added an hour to the time displayed on my cell phone, only to realize when we got to practice that my phone automatically adjusted to the new time, meaning we were there an hour early. So Darby and I got some extra practice in ourselves before the rest of the team showed up. But even then there was no resting for daddy as the coach was late and I decided to take over practice. Though the coach eventually showed up, he let me continue to run the practice, so my yesterday-skating-soreness and day-before-that-knuckle-soreness have been appended with baseball-playing-soreness.

I love that spring is finally REALLY here. And I love that baseball season is here. But I see now that I'll be more busy and less rested in the coming months, which makes me slightly (very very slightly) appreciate the lesser activeness of winter.