Pablo 7, Papa 0

The baseball

The batter

Don't tell anyone, but Pablo and I have pushed the beds to the sides of the room. The guest bed is blocking the door. Pablo's holding the nurse's white flashlight like a baseball bat. He is sitting on his legs on top of his bed. I am pitching him the rubber ball that he and Nana just bought in the gift shoppe. The dude only swings at balls he can whack out of the park. He even got a home run (sinking the ball into the wash basin) with bases loaded. Prior to cobbling together our intra-room baseball league, we we playing catch with the rubber ball. That lead to Pablo laying on every crazy spin he could come up with. To keep the needle in the red, I showed him how to throw the ball super hard at the floor so it'd hit the ceiling. He laughed as if Tim Conway were putting on a personal show for him at the foot of his bed. So, you know, I kept doing it...and doing it...and doing it.

OK, enough typing.

Pablo's done eating his lunch (proof below)—time for second inning.