Smells like baseball!

Dash eats all the time. ALL THE TIME. He's still got those 4 teeth (2 top, 2 bottom) and he'll heat everything he can get his hands on. Granola bars, fruit, cookies, pasta - loves that, and he gets ticked if you eat something and he doesn't. He's also pooping 2-3 times a day - which is a big turn-around from from the twice a week routine he was on. And it's not a "oh he pooped!" job anymore. It's a "Holy Crap! (*gag*) Dash you're gross! (*gag*)" poop. The degree of difficulty for changing him has increased as well. Along with poo, he absolutely refuses to lie still while changing - which at times can leave him looking like he just mud-wrestled his way across our bed... And he'll wave at you as he does it. Still bald.
Kaed wrapped up his hoop season last week and it was a success. I hope he sticks with it. Baseball season is next, and he wants to do it, but this year he gets the pitching machine and not a tee. And since our address hasn't officially changed to Kelso yet (still waiting on approval of building plans from the county...) we're back at Central Baseball for one more year. I know I've elluded to this before, but the "powers that be" at Central have a real unique gift of tobacco manipulation. Of course there are numerous signs posted that tobacco use is prohibited at the ball park, but there are three levels of blantant disregard of said rule:
1. The "Screw it, I'm chewin'" guys. These guys (haven't noticed any women in this category, but that doesn't mean there not out there) are few, fortunately, but the dip-wad in their cheek is golf ball-esque. Stains optional.
2. The "Iron-gut-ers". These guys take small pinches in their lip and swallow the evidence - in case anyone is checking.
3. The "Passive-Aggressive Parent". They know they shouldn't smoke or chew on the grounds, so instead of waiting and hour or so until the game ends, they just stand in the street and puff/spit. These parents are literally, 10 feet away from bleachers, and feel like everything is a-ok. But that leads me to the following dillemma: What would I rather smell? Cig-smoke? B-O? The mill (it's right there)? Hmm. At Central you get all of them, with a slight hint of corndog.

Track started for me this week and I'll have some pretty good pole-vaulters for boys and girls. I'm also in my last week of my Master's Degree. Thank goodness. One assignment left.