Jacob is my little baseball player. He loves to play ball with his dad. And he absolutely cannot play baseball without his new Mariner's hat. Plus, he already has a baseball player's name: "Jacob Palmer."
The problem: I think he inherited my hand-eye coordination. And my batter's stance. And my problems with balance. At least he will never have to learn to walk in heels. And he's got a pretty mean swing (and by "swing" I mean "full-bodied twirl"-- see 0:26).
Note: real baseball players don't need pants.
Sh*t: I wipe it, put up with it, and get it done. These are the adventures of a mommy lawyer.
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