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We are excited that Caleb will be playing t-ball this spring.  And after some minor snafoos with practices being on Sundays, we are now actively participating on a great team, coached by a nice guy who happens to be a local police officer.  Caleb got his new jersey and hat, which happens to be very cute…but his team name is "The Lugnuts". 

The WHAT?!

My baby is playing on a team named after a "heavy, rounded nut that fits over a bolt, used especially to attach an automotive vehicle’s wheel to its axle"?!?

This cannot be a good sign.

Jacob tactfully asked in his sarcastic 8-year-old-going-on-14 way, "A lugnut?!  What’s that?!"

I had to think quick.  Make it sound competitive.  Mean.  Like it somehow fit perfectly for the best t-ball team in the league…

"You know..

Screw ’em to the ground! 

Beat ’em til their down!"  I said, with a growl.

(And then I pretended to spit like a baseball player).

It seemed to appease the boys.

But I got a very disapproving look from Derek.  The kind that said, "I think you’ll live to regret that one."  But what was I to do?  No kid of mine is going to play on a team of lugnut pansies! 

So…last night we were playing a very competitive game of Uno.  I happened to win the first round, with Caleb coming in at a close second.  Derek opted for a round 2.  I, once again, came in first, with Caleb as second.  Let me tell you now that there is no "let the kid win" attitude around here.  I firmly believe that every one has to win fair and square in our house.  With the only exception being the "I’ll-help-you-beat-dad-now-that-I’ve-won" clause.

So while me and Caleb were doing our "we beat you" victory dances (literal dances) Caleb shouts, "WE REALLY SCREWED THEM, MOM!"

(*insert the same disapproving look from Derek).

I better figure out a new "lugnut" slogan.