Field of dreams

The New York branch of our family seems to prefer soccer, lacrosse, water skiing and snow boarding, but that doesn't mean they weren't game to join us in a bit of baseball.

We killed some time one afternoon at a local field, armed with a wiffle ball and bat.

Some needed a little more help than others. I'm sure we can blame that on the pitching. (I overheard Jeff joking with a friend recently that the trick is to try and throw the ball to actuall hit the bat.)

Did I mention there was a playground between the parking lot and the baseball field. You can bet our trip back to the car involved a not-so-brief stop.

(Actually, Sydney and I had already spent a significant amount of time here while the bigger kids had been playing ball.)

This stepping bridge gave Sydney more trouble than anything else at the playground. Based on where the hand-holds are, and the distance between steps, I'm assuming it's designed for someone taller. But she wasn't going to let that stop her. We went back and forth more times than I can count.