We have a jock! Maybe.

Drew has been telling me stories of Rachel's baseball prowess. They went out back yesterday afternoon and had a very intense game of BASEBALL, with Drew throwing toy balls that Linda and Doug gave us more than a year ago, and Rachel actually hitting them with a "bat," -- really a blowup of a bowling pin.

I found that hard to believe, but tonight Rachel requested baseball again, so as soon as we got home I changed clothes and we went outside. She missed the first half-dozen times and started crying. "I can't play baseball!" she said, and so I took her into my lap and explained that she had to be patient with herself, that learning things takes time and that you have to do things over and over and over again before you get good at them. And that eventually she'll get so good at baseball that she'd be playing baseball in a big stadium someday and the crowd would be cheering (and I mimicked the sound of a loud stadium) and that Mommy and Daddy would be sitting in the front row and WE'D be cheering, too, and she started perking up a bit.

So we tried some more, with me suggesting that she wait until I tell her to swing. AND SHE HIT THE BALL! SEVERAL TIMES! Once straight to my feet! Every time she hit the ball I said, "Way to go!" and ordered her to jump up and down with excitement, which she was happy to do.

Then she suggested that "when you and Daddy are a little bit older, you can play baseball and we can be on a team."

"What should our name be?" I said. "Team Rachel!"

"No," she said. "Team Home Run!"

Man, I like this kid.