Persistence, patience can lead to a darn loud whistle
The baseball I lobbed to my 7-year-old grandson thunked against his forehead. Astonished, he screamed at me, "You hit me," dropped his glove and ran crying to his mother. As I held ice cubes against the rising egg above his eyebrow, I said, I'm sorry, Aidan. But I didn't hit you, Bud. You missed.
The baseball I lobbed to my 7-year-old grandson thunked against his forehead. Astonished, he screamed at me, "You hit me," dropped his glove and ran crying to his mother. As I held ice cubes against the rising egg above his eyebrow, I said, I'm sorry, Aidan. But I didn't hit you, Bud. You missed.







