I wonder what it's like to have kids that don't like sports.
I'm pretty sure last night would have been spent on my couch watching some dumb TV show, instead of at the ball field.
I wouldn't be able to experiment with the camera on how to focus behind the fence that is protecting my life from a speeding baseball that wants to hit my head.
I wouldn't be able to teach Morgan how you can still kinda get cool pictures by focusing either close or far. (or how to pretend that you intended to focus on the fence instead of the pitcher.)
My kids wouldn't have nearly as many friends as they do today.
They wouldn't have learned so many important life lessons about sportsmanship, competitiveness, and being part of a team.
I wouldn't know that no matter how prepared you think you are to go watch a baseball game, you will probably have to park a mile away, and all the crap you have to carry will be heavy. And while it was sunny and warm when you got there, you still need the jacket and fleece blanket to wrap up in. And when you leave your regular glasses in the car and only wear your prescription sunglasses to the game, it's very hard to see who's who when the sun goes down.
I wouldn't be reminded daily how Andy is on the short end of the spectrum, and other boys are on the tall end. (the boy standing behind him is less than a year older than him.)