Play ball

Charlie is learning how to throw a baseball. He terrifies me. He prefers his right hand to throw. He holds the ball in his right hand over his head. He walks around like that with his outstretched arm over his head and the ball in his hand; the Statue of Liberty pose is what I call it. He gives me no indication when he will throw the ball, not a cadence, not a windup, not a glance. He doesn't release his grip on the ball until his unbent arm is at 90 degrees. If he is more than four feet away, I anticipate where the ball land on the floor and the hop it will take. These throws are easier to field. But most of the time he charges me and is directly over me when he delivers a high speed fastball. The best defense for me is to shield my face with my arms. It is a cowardly reaction. I am a coward, but my face is uninjured.

Charlie loves listening to music in the car. As soon as he is strapped in and buckled he begins demanding it. "Listen to music!" He says. "On road again!"

I carry two CDs in my car and one of them I don't listen to. The one I do listen to is Willie Nelson's Greatest Hits. Charlie special requests "On The Road Again" and "Unclouded Day" every time we go somewhere. Jill has a larger selection of music discs than I have. He knows which music goes with which car. From Jill's albums Charlie enjoys, "Yolanda" from a compilation and "Upside Down" by Die On The Cross (This is not religious music, it is just the way he pronounces Diana Ross.)

He is quite the music critic. After the first three measures of a song, if he hasn't said "different" he will listen to the entire song. When he especially likes the song, when it is over he says, "Good one! Yeah."

I bought Charlie a globe. He can locate Madagascar off the East coast of Africa where the Aye-Aye lives. It also lives at the zoo, in the "dork".