So I'm in the process of getting ready to go out the door so that I can catch the last half of Little's baseball game and the Home Run Derby this morning when the phone rings.
It's Savageman. "Everything's okay... I think... but um... he got hit in the face with a baseball. So when you come, can you bring one of the good ice packs and a towel? Oh... and maybe you should call the dentist... I think they have Saturday morning hours."
An image flashes through my mind of Little and his cute little face, his little mouth, his little teeth - mangled, bruised, bleeding, broken, hurting.
Not to mention that the kid is supposed to leave for NY tomorrow so that he can be on TV Monday cooking a meal with Emeril. Do I call to cancel? Or show up only to have them take one look at his stitched up, toothless, swollen face and send us home?
I summon the brothers, jump in the car, take off for the baseball field, only to realize I've forgotten the ice pack and have to go back.
We get to the field and I park sloppily, then sprint over to the field, where Little is... at bat.
He gets a single, they score a run. On the next pitch, he gets to second and they score again, ending the inning - there's a 3 run mercy rule in effect.
He comes over and looks... fine. He goes back in to pitch.
At the end of the game, the coach presents him with the game ball - he calls it the ToughMan Award because all Little cared about when he got hit was getting back in the game and having a turn to pitch. He teared up when he got the award and gave the coach a hug. A rare show of emotion for Little, maybe becuase it was the last game of the season.
Sweet little thing... Can't they dress like this for every position?
(As if the cooking show wasn't enough, he was also photographed by a news reporter last week.)