I tell you without hesitation that we have done NOTHING different between raising the girls and The Big Beef (as he's known). And being a boy has something in his DNA in that he is magically drawn to balls. Like any size ball. Basketballs, baseballs, volleyballs. It doesn't matter. He wants to get his hands on sports balls and has a joyous look when he gets them. This photo above is after I bought him his first ball and bat. This *seems* like a seminal moment in a boy's life. And a big moment between a father and son. His first baseball. It isn't a mitt. That comes later. But this is still big. I have so many fond memories of having a catch with my dad. We usually threw the ball back and forth over on a patch of grass at the end of our cul-de-sac. I still remember him getting down into the catchers crotch and having me practice pitching to him only to skip in a bunch of heaters that inevitably ended ...