This morning Mum took Amelia off to the toy shop to buy her a rolling pin for her playdough, a bike pump to pump up a ball she got for christmas and a cricket bat (or as she calls it, a kick-it bat) and ball. She has been watching a fair bit of cricket with my dad on the TV. She sits up on the couch beside him munching on her apple slices shouting “GOOD SHOT!” when he does and even when he doesn’t. We walked to the playground on the weekend past a couple of local cricket games and had to hurry her along as she wanted to stand and watch and shout “GOOD SHOT!” even when absolutely nothing was happening (which seems to be most of the time in cricket in my opinion) which was startling for both players and spectators.
So she got a little yellow wooden bat and a soft plastic ball and was out in the garden running around soon after with great enthusiasm with team-mates Nan-nan and Pappous bowling to her or attempting to hit her wildly thrown balls. There was much applauding and cheering going on and at one point I even heard her shout (gawd help us) “I’m WARNIE!”. I went out for a peek and was amazed to see her looking quite the professional, striking a relatively correct stance (wiggling her nappy clad bum) as she waited for the ball… but not always – I was a little worried about Pappous’s nether regions as she seemed particularly keen on running right up to him and wopping the ball before it had left his hands. However, the only real casualty of the morning was one of my prized garden worms who, it was discovered, did not take well to being bowled.