Imagine This

D is obsessed with baseball. It started when he was two years old and we took him to his first Major League and Minor League baseball games that summer.  He started playing baseball nonstop after those games. In the house, outside, in his bed, anywhere, he had a ball and a bat and he was begging someone to play baseball with him; begging someone to pitch to him or throw him grounders or pop ups.  My husband and I kept saying" it's just a phase" well D will be turning five this summer and his obsession has not faded.  He is still constantly playing baseball, talking about baseball, obsessing about baseball.  Now he is obsessed with certain MLB players and collecting cards, autographs, etc. The kid is baseball crazy. Instead of vacation this summer, we got a set of Indian's tickets to go to games, because that is what we like to do as a family, go to baseball games, minor league baseball games, major league baseball games, college baseball games, high school baseball gamed, middle school baseball games, whatever it is, we are watching some sort of baseball from April to October. (And even December to March, we watch an Indian's game that is forever saved on our DVR. Yes he watches it over and over and even though he knows the outcome of every play, he watches and cheers like it's his first time watching). His little brother is one year's old and his first word was "ba" (ball), the poor kid had no choice!

With 65 days until opening day at Progressive Field, we already had a poster made (it also happens to be his favorite player's birthday, yes he likes to do research on his favorite player, I swear it was his idea to research his birthday!). And even though it is five months until his fifth birthday, he has already found a minor league team that plays a game on his birthday because that's what he wants to do for his birthday, of course, go to a baseball game.  What did he beg for his fourth birthday? A catcher's mask and helmet. What topped his Santa list the last two Christmas's?  Indians tickets & baseball cards.  What does he want this year for his birthday, we were informed the other day? A BATTING CAGE for our back yard. ( We told him to keep dreaming about that one:). And did I mention D rocks Indian's baseball undies? I think that confirms the diagnosis: baseball obsessed.

At around age three and a half, it was winter time and D was having a difficult time saying good bye to baseball season.  He still wanted to play constantly and was frustrated that the weather wouldn't cooperate for outdoor baseball (although we have played some snow baseball).  Anyway, he got frustrated that he couldn't play baseball everywhere we went and that I wouldn't let him take his ball into every store, church, friend's home, etc.  So he developed a way to bring a baseball everywhere he went. 

When it first started , I didn't realize what was happening. I went to hold his hand to cross the street and he said he couldn't hold my hand. I became frustrated; he never fights me about holding hands crossing the street, I thought I had already won that battle!

Finally he said, "mommy, I can't let go of my ball! I don't want to lose it!"  Then it all made sense. D's little fingers were curled around his imaginary ball.  I wouldn't let him take his real baseball into the store so he was taking his imaginary ball into the store.  And instead of fighting and arguing with me about the injustice of me not letting him take his baseball, his prized possession into the store, like most adults would do, he created an imaginary ball that he took everywhere.  No one can ever tell him not to take his imaginary ball into the store, and it went EVERYWHERE with him.

His imaginary ball lasted all winter into the spring and summer. It came in very handy actually, while waiting in line at (ironically) a baseball game, we played imaginary catch.  In the house, we played batting practice with his imaginary ball (imaginary balls don't break picture frames!) It kept him very busy and occupied. It is more active then video games! I learned to keep the ball safe by putting it in my pocket while crossing the street. (Yes, I really had to put it in my pocket or he would get frustrated with me.) That ball was his buddy all year; one night I found his hand clenched in a fist, holding tight to his imaginary ball all night long, until he could wake up the next day and play baseball with it.

Some Kids have imaginary friends, imaginary pets, imaginary siblings.

My son has an imaginary baseball.