Last week, the family made a quick trip to Virginia Beach to say goodbye to my dear great aunt, Violet. We arrived in town early enough to have a quick game of "Baba pitch the ball." I must actually admit that Momma was pitching the ball for a little while. But Henry was hitting it so hard that I worried about him hitting my now-inhabited-with-a-teeny-person belly. So I handed the pitching duty off to my dad. Apparently, Henry can read his pitches pretty well.