Metamorphosis of a Baseball

It‘s true. I’m one of those people who do not get sports analogies. So last week, I was tickled when I noticed Søren unraveling a baseball.

The activity began when he found an old ball in the ivy. He tossed the treasure toward the lolling blue sky a few times then snuck into the work shed and emerged a few minutes later with a pocketknife. He deftly skinned the thing and was delighted to discover that its innards were a tightly wound mass of fine thread.

He spent an hour or so unwinding without an ounce of boredom. When our backyard had been properly spider-webbed, he came to the end of the fine thread and hit a layer of wound cord. He kept at the business of unwinding and was delighted to discover that at the core of the baseball were two wooden hemispheres, “Mom, look…!”

“I never knew.”

I suggested Søren make something out of the baseball components and went back to my gardening, assuming he would shrug off my suggestion. But soon after that he came to me with his summer baseball sculpture, a non-functional tropical smoothie tumbler.

Now there’s a sports analogy I can chew on.

– Kim