Oh, to Crawl Inside His Mind

So, there I was: sitting at the ball fields for the fourth time this week, watching Handsome Boy's little league game that I was sure would be called soon on account of rain, huddling under one big golf umbrella that I shared with Lovely Girl, who sat with her own chair squinched right up next to mine. My husband C was standing next to us, trying in vain to fend off the raindrops with his own terribly small travel umbrella. And all three of us had our eyes trained on Handsome Boy, out there in center field, braving the rain along with the rest of his team.

I don't know what inning it was, but there was a lull in the action. I was looking hopefully back toward the dugout and chanting in my head: Please call the game! Please call the game!, when I heard C say, "What's he doing?" I whipped my head around and looked back toward our little center fielder. 

There stood Handsome Boy, still dutifully at his outfield post, still more or less keeping his eyes focused towards the batter at home plate. But he was not in ready position. Instead, he was gyrating around, waving his hands in the air, waggling his little bottom, bopping along to a beat only he could hear. He jammed along for several moments in his own private dance club. The outfield coach was gamely trying to ignore it. C, Lovely Girl and I burst into uncontrollable giggles. 

Finally, I managed to call out to him, "What are you doing?"

Handsome Boy looked our way, smiled his usual impish grin, and kept right on dancing through the inning, stopping only when the batter hit the ball to see if it was coming his way. When his team got the third out, he trotted back to the dugout with them, leaving the three of us still in hysterics and wondering what on earth he was doing out there.

Two batters later, with the rain now coming down in sheets, the coaches finally called the game. Handsome Boy gathered his things and bounced over to where we stood waiting. As soon as he got within earshot, we were all asking, "What was all that in the outfield?"

He smiled at us, eyes wide, as if to say we were less than observant, and not too terribly bright. "I was doing my rain dance," he said. "You know, to keep the raindrops from getting on me."

Huh. Here we were using umbrellas to dodge those raindrops. And all we really needed were a couple of rad moves...