I hate parents of people. Little League edition.

As if owning three little children wasn't enough to convice the world that I am a father, this past weekend was fully of daddy incidents that forced me to open my eyes (even wider) to how retarded parents can be.

Catherine (my oldest asset) had try-outs for the local Little League Softball Chapter. Cat has never ever played an organized sport, nor has she been invovled in many competitons aside from fighting with her little brother for parent attention. The try-outs were held at a local school in the early, cool hours of the morning and continued on into the later cool hours of the day.

As I watched the "Adult" in charge of the try-outs throw pop-flys to 7-8 year-old girls, I became nervous for my Catherine. We hadn't gone over the "pop-fly" yet. In the week previous, we went over grounders, throwing and batting stances. So, when the "pop-flys" started "popping and flying" I got a little tense. Just picture little girls holding baseball gloves (as big as their heads) trying to block softballs from their little innocent faces.

I was so tense that I made the mistake of verbalizing my concern to a "parent" that was standing next to me. I said, "Wow this is really making me nervous...hehe." She then replied, "Ah, if they get hit in the face it will sting a little bit, it won't break a nose or chip a tooth...it'll just sting." Then her husband chymed in, "That's how they learn to protect themselves."

I really wanted to tell the lady to walk across the field and let me throw a line drive "pop-fly" at her face....just to test out her theory. And to her boyfriend: I hope he's not the one teaching his kids how to cross the street. "Don't worry kids, just dodge that minivan."