These feet tell me stories. Good ones too. Plots thick with twists and unexpected endings. I read them everyday. Some days I take just a glance at the book spine of their brotherhood and opt to skim through the chapters to follow. Other days find me immersed in every ink blot of print I can soak in of them. Frivolously, I turn pages late into the night only hoping I can keep up with their character development and dual protagonists point of view. Then, there are days like this one. Days where I am engaged and interested, but have much on my mind. You know the sessions with print where you find yourself re-reading the same paragraph over and again because of your preoccupation?
Thank goodness for those re-reads.
For comprehension is such a blessing.
Our day started early and with much on the agenda. The boys were anxious for the warm day ahead of them. Just the night before, I overheard them planning their break times away from school. On this morning, they were particularly deliberate and quite meticulous on their clothing selections for their day.
They had received the outfits you see here the Christmas before last. Being just 20 months apart in age, I have often dressed them alike. I've always loved the look-alike concept. Maybe it's that whole "I'm gonna grow up and have twins" dream that all little girls have working its way out and into my closebutnotsomuch reality.
The boys usually oblige me in this twinzy vibe, but never by their own choice. Independence and autonomy increases with each rung on the age ladder we climb. And, well, matching outfits aren't gonna fly.
Until this day.
Preoccupied and in my proverbial pace car, I neglected to really even notice what covered their backs and hineys.
Until this moment.
With our school day halfway through and on break, I was laying belly down [Yes, belly down.] in the grass photographing k.Mac products. The lighting was the perfect overcast yet dismally bright kinda day for a photography session. Snapping away all while contorting myself in the most unethical positions to get justtheright angle, I stopped to get a frappin' piece of MY hair out of the lens.
As my fingers crossed over my eyes in a swooping motion, my eyes seemed to follow along with my fingers landing my gaze on this pitcher and batter at play.
Unforeseen, I blurted out: "Hey guys. You look cute!"
Eli, the pitcher, responded quickly back: "We're not cute, Mom. We're players."
And, I again: "No, I like your outfits. You look so cute; you look like twins!"
Casey would have no more of my ridiculous banter: "Mom, we are not twins. We are teammates. Teammates wear the same uniforms."
And, like I said, these feet tell me stories.
Good ones too.
Plots thick with twists and unexpected endings.
Teammates NOT Twins.
I love this ending.
Comprehension is such a blessing,