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What does it mean to be a kid?

Well, choo eeediot..., it meaannnns your not old enough to drink...or, does it? I drank when I was a "kid". Is it age, well, we've all met youngsters who were beyond their years in ability and demeaner...Would I call someone a kid who could play Brahms Intermezzo in E minor, Op. 116 with all of the subtlty of an aged professional. Don't we adults feel like the child when A son/daughter rolls their eyes at us when we do something incredibly stupid....

I have this story.

I was trying to teach my daughter how to play baseball. Finally, she was interested in something I liked (after she lost interest in songs about boogers during the long ride to my home). I was going to instill all of the technique and knowledge that I aquired in my vast years of experience.
After a few rounds of toss, I noticed she was aiming too much...the ball sailed in extremely slowly after much concentration on her part. I then promptly said, "don't aim, just look and throw" WHEN, in came a 60 mph (fast when you're not expecting it) white globe buzzing above my head an into the street.

Now, in my infinite wisdom, I decided that playing ball in the sideyard of my house was a good idea. A narrow strip of land, yes, but it offered some nice distance and kept us away from the street.

Well, after the haircut I received from her fast ball...I said, no no...your doing it all wrong. You have to look where your throwing the ball and aim without concentrating too much.
I then...
offered a demonstration of the quick handedness (ala Tinkers to Evers to Chance) that I was refering to. I instructed my young daughter to come stand next to me and toss me the ball. I would then catch, adjust and throw the ball into the fence in one swift movement. Brilliant, she would see the incredible fluidness of my skill...she would understand the action a good double play requires...I AM ALL OVER THIS PARENTING THING!

Courtney, my daughter, then sauntered up to me...picked up the ball and glanced at me with bored eyes. Knowingly, I winked and said..."toss me the ball". Which she did very nicely. I caught the ball, turned my hips and swung my left leg into place. As my foot planted, I pulled the ball from the glove; wrenched my arm backwards and unleashed the fury of an underworked 30 year old arm. In an instant the ball flew from my hand at an incredible, arm breaking 20 mph...

...and straight into the brand new vinyl siding on my house; breaking off a piece and rolling to a stop in the middle of the yard. My lovely daughter then broke into uncontrollable laughter and called me stupid.

Who is the kid?




Chris


Printed on Ilford Warmtone Paper.

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Additional Photos by Christopher Wallish (prezntime) Gold Star Critiquer/Gold Note Writer [C: 746 W: 1 N: 999] (3946)
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