Most mornings when I wake up Tucker's face is about 2 inches from mine and he is saying, "Mom, mom... will tuck my shirt in all the way in?" He is usually fully dressed in his t-ball uniform and wanting me to help him get the shirt and belt just so. He is very "just so" about the way he wears his uniform.
In his mind, the game is about to start and he is headed downstairs to our living room to take a few practice swings before his first at bat. I usually head downstairs (much too slowly for Tucker's taste) and try to find my way to some coffee. By the time I have stirred in the creamer, the game is in the third inning. He is 2 for 2, the bases are loaded, Sammy Sosa just hit nice single into right field and Tucker is about to hit his first grand slam for the day. What a day at ballpark. I begin to pull out a few things for breakfast as he slides into home plate (a basket of magazines) and the crowd goes wild (many magazines fall out of the basket and make lots of noise). The clock above the stove tells me it is 7:12am and I am debating on waking up Elizabeth.
I love Tucker's intensity. He lives life as if each day is game day. Each task gets the same amount of intensity and determination. (Unfortunately these characteristics still apply when he decides to have a fit.) For Tucker all things are purposeful and meaningful. I want to be more like him. I want to see daily tasks as part of a chance to be great.By the time Elizabeth gets downstairs Tucker has already set her pink ball, glove, and bat out for her. He greets her with a quick hug and then asks, "Elizabeth - so you remember how I showed you to play defense?"
Today when Tucker woke up I was already downstairs, my second cup of coffee in one hand and James' glove in the other. I was ready to win the World Series and then head out for the best
Target run of my life!