He plays baseball in the backyard with his daddy, so he wasn’t sure t-ball (rather than hitting live pitching) would be fun, but he seemed to enjoy it.

He was typical Marcus, typically intense.

Here is a slideshow for proof (there are itty bitty captions at the bottom left).  The only disappointment, it turns out, was that no official score was kept.  Oh well.

Which, in case this needs to be pointed out, are also the initials of Major League Baseball.

I started collecting baseball cards when I was 8, so I wasn’t entirely sure I should start Marcus, with his 6th birthday still a month away.  But he seemed to show the requisite interest.  So . . . . I bought him his first packs.

And I made sure I had my camera when he opened them up.  For explanations, there are (itty bitty) captions at the bottom left of the images.

He loves animals and insects, no matter how ugly or strange.  Sometimes, it seems, the uglier and stranger, the better, so his favorites include bats, armadillos, and platypuses.  Yet he appreciates that the kestrel must eat the sparrow to survive, and that the sparrow must eat the ant.  And he loves the ant.  The sparrow, too, and the kestrel.  He especially loves the ant.

We walk hand-in-hand to the Spokane Arena to watch a hockey game together.  He wants to know if Everett will be the opponent.  I say no, Vancouver.  He says, too bad.  He likes Everett’s uniforms.  And I think back to last year when we saw Everett play.  Then he goes on, “At least when they wear their green shirts with the green helmets.  I don’t like white jerseys as much,” he says, accessing memories two years old.  “They wear white helmets with those.”

A nightmare disturbs his sleep.  He asks to be hugged in the morning.  He tells me that he is sad, so we talk about other things.  That afternoon, after preschool, while talking about the day––painting and pizza for snack––he says to me, “Daddy, you know what’s funny?” and he says “funny” as in “peculiar” or “worthy of pondering.”  I ask him what.  “It’s funny,” he says, “how I spend more time thinking about the bad things than the good.”

He is sick, his fever breaking, and he has no energy, and he lays on my chest.  I play some soft music for him, “The Weepies”, a sad song called “The World Spins Madly On” and he is warm against my body, and I love being able to hold him and rub his back.  Then he says to me, in a froggy, groggy voice, “These words don’t make sense.”  “What do you mean?” I ask.  “It says the world spins madly on.  But the world doesn’t spin madly, like this,” and he lifts up his body so he can demonstrate, and he spins his fingers around, “or we would all fall off.”  He lays back down.  “At first,” he continues, “I thought it said, ‘And the world spins magically on’.”  His throat is thick with illness, and every word is an effort, but he lifts himself back up to look me in the eyes.  “That makes more sense.  Because it spins around and around and no one is pushing it, like magic.”  He puts his head back on my shoulder.  I rub his back.  It has started to snow outside.

Marcus and Bonnie were also there, of course, so they will all make appearances in this here little gallery. Sites include the San Diego Zoo, DisneyLand, and SeaWorld, plus, of course, some Christmas Day presents.

And, to keep the narrative flowing, there are, at the bottom left of each image, tiny little captions.  Fun for everyone!

And soccer has started.

Marcus is playing his first season, the lone boy on a team of six.

They are the Panthers, hold practices twice a week, and have games on Saturdays.

Marcus’ first game was last week.   Here’s a little gallery with some commentary.

(If you have an aversion to photographs of soccer and/or of fiesty little soccer players, you might want to avoid this here blog for a couple months.  Just warning you)

Marcus received, from his Grandma and Grandpa Brunt, a cool, Finnish-looking woolen sweater. I love it, and, amazingly, he is happy to wear it (he usually eschews clothing that would keep him warm during the winter). When it started to snow the other day, I thought it would be cool to get some pictures of him in his Scandinavian sweater in the snow. My only instructions: 1) please don’t make silly faces, and 2) please stand still. Or, as Ringo used to sing, all he had to do was, “act naturally.” Ummm. You can be the judge of how it went.

(Click on the “Play” button at the bottom for a slideshow.)

This little gallery is of an afternoon about a week ago. There is text at the top right of the images.

(It may take a few moments for the first page/image to load)

At right, Marcus showing typically intense enthusiasm for a Spokane Chiefs Zamboni.

Click here for a tiny sampling of Marcus Birthdays.