James does the impossible

James taught me to catch a ball yesterday. Don't laugh; this was a major accomplishment. I have always been terrible at ball sports. Really bad. You know that feeling of existential sorrow and awareness of human mortality that people are supposed to feel at certain moments? I get that feeling when people mention softball, or golf.

Anyway, James and Thomas were tossing around a Nerf ball as I was unloading the dishwasher. "Mama, catch!" he called. Not now, I excused myself.

James looked at me. "You don't know how. Here, try this!" He tossed me the ball. I did my usual spastic maneuver; the ball fell on the floor. James eyed me thoughtfully. "You're pulling your hands apart. Make them into a bowl instead -- see, like this -- and turn to face the ball. Don't move your hands on your own; they'll follow your eyes. Catch!" He threw me the ball. I...caught it. This happened again, and a second time. Then he threw the ball off to the side. I turned to face it -- and caught it! James was more pleased even than I was.