This, I liked a lot.
“Don’t blame you,” Mitch muttered and my eyes jerked to him then narrowed.
Mitch grinned at me.
I glared.
“Seriously, sweetheart, you know his sizes. Can’t you and Billie just pick up some shit for him?” he asked.
“I can pick out clothes for Bud,” Billie, sitting beside Bud at the bar chimed in then finished, “Easy.”
“See, Billie can pick them out for me,” Bud unsurprisingly instantly agreed with Billie’s plan.
“Are you sure you want that?” I asked Bud and he shrugged.
I was visualizing Bud in t-shirts with butterflies on them when I heard Mitch mutter, “Decided,” and my eyes went back to him.
“It’s a family outing,” I announced and watched Mitch’s head jerk.
Then he declared, “I’m not going.”
“You are.”
“I am not.”
“If Mitch isn’t going, I’m not going either,” Bud stated.
“I’m going!” Billie cried excitedly.
That was my girl, all girl therefore always up for shopping.
“Bud and I’ll go out, hit a few balls,” Mitch said, “That cool with you, Bud?”
Like Bud would say no.
“Totally!” Bud cried.
See?
It was then I knew I’d lost both of them from the family outing I had planned but I hadn’t exactly communicated mostly because I knew this would be the outcome.
Mitch and Bud taking off with their baseball equipment wasn’t unusual. They went out nearly daily to hit a few balls and catch a few balls either at a park or a vacant diamond and Mitch also took him to batting cages. Bud had played Little League that year and you would never have guessed a little over a year ago he’d never thrown a ball in his life. Mitch said he was a natural. It seemed Mitch was right. Bud was the best kid on his team.
Then again, it helped that those two were always carting their mitts and bat bags around everywhere they went. Heck, just the other day when we’d swung into King Soopers to grab some things we needed, Billie and I went in and came out to Mitch and Bud playing catch in the parking lot.
“We were going to have a nice lunch,” I dangled my carrot.
“Good, have one with Billie,” Mitch replied, not seeing my carrot as tasty. “Bud and I’ll grab some hotdogs”, and he said this last as his cell on the counter rang.
I looked at Bud. “What if you don’t like the clothes we get?”
“Auntie Mara, they’re clothes. What do I care?”
That was my boy, all boy therefore he didn’t care what clothes he wore.
Though, he’d probably care if butterflies were on them.
Before I could threaten him with this eventuality, Mitch spoke.