On the way to school yesterday, the kids are drawing on their notepads and Saia's talking about all the balls and bats she's made.
"Are you gonna play baseball when you get older, Sweetie?" I ask her.
"Yes, ma'm!" she says enthusiastically.
"And what about you, son? Are you gonna play baseball, too?"
"Uh-uh," he says shaking his head. "I will play cricket."
"Cricket?" I repeat. "Really?"
"Yup. I like cricket," he says without looking up from his pad.
"Do you know how to play cricket?" I ask him. "Uh-huh," he says. "Can you tell me how?" I prompt. "Sure," he replies.
"You hold the little stick and you hit the ball really really hard."
"Then you hit it again. And again. And again!" he says.
"Until?" I ask.
"Until you don't hit it anymore," he says very matter-of-factly with his hands up in the air.
"Oh," I say, "so how do you know who's won?"
"Well..." he begins, "whoever hits the ball the fastest and gets done first is the winner."
"And what happens to everyone else?" I ask, a little unsure about how much he understands the concepts of winning and losing.
"Well, Mama, if they don't hit the ball the fastest...[ugh, here it comes]...then I am still the winner."
[Hmm...I think I like that alright (for now anyway). There are no losers. Just winners. Very glass-is-half-full.]