October 4 – “Captain Billy Whizzbang’s”

We did one of those grandparently things again.  Well, at least one of those things that only a grandparent can truly understand and appreciate.  We drove for four hours to watch a kid’s one hour baseball game.  Now we have made the drive for other reasons a swell, but this one was special.  It was the only time during Caleb’s entire Fall baseball seasons that we could arrange to go see him play.  Sound silly?  Well, not so much.  You see, being a grandparent carries with it certain exceptions to the rules.  A lot of exceptions to the rules, actually.  And when you combine those unofficial grandparent exceptions with the oft-rebellious further expansions of behavior common to certain members of the Vaughan family (Why is everyone thinking that would be me?  Chris goes along with most – er, well, some - of them), you get a massive conspiracy to help the children have fun.

Now, the baseball game was fun.  He plays in the coach pitch league, and Caleb connected with the ball every time he batted.  In fact, he went 2 for 3 (and was safe on an error).  Scored two runs.  They eventually lost the game, but they got a bottle of Gatorade and a pack of oreos for snacks, so all was good.  Except maybe for that one little guy who had the misfortune of having his Dad for a coach.  At one point the kid threw the ball in from the outfield instead of running it in to the pitcher, as his Dad was hollering for him to do.  The ensuing altercation between the two of them led to the boy being benched and to a lot of tense parents in the stands.  To his credit the Dad took the boy off by themselves after the inning ended and had a talk.  I have no idea what they talked about, but I was rooting for a hug when they got done.  That never materialized, though.  Me and the youngster had to settle for a pat on his behind.  But that’s the sports equivalent of a hug, isn’t it?

After the game we stopped for a hamburger.  We were headed to Whataburger, but suddenly Josh turned into a bank parking lot.  We were in two cars.  Josh and I, along with Caleb and Zakary, were in his car so the boys could do some Pokemon hunting.  Chris and Christi were following with Luke and AnnaGrace.  Josh repossessed his phone and quickly called Christi.  After a brief discussion, the change was made.  No Whataburger.  Instead we were going to Josh’s favorite Waco hamburger joint.  Now I have to announce up front that I was the only one brave enough to order the specialty of the house, the whizz-pigg.  It has a hamburger patty that is a 50/50 mixture of ground beef and ground (are you ready for this?) bacon.  I had great expectations, but I have to be honest, the bacon didn’t really enhance the flavor nearly as much as I thought it would.  Don’t get me wrong.  It was one of the best burgers I have had in a long time.  Made the old-fashioned way.  Handmade patties.  Toasted one the grill buns.  And the fries were the crunchy on the outside with a burst of juicy goodness on the inside kind.  I would most assuredly go back.  Oh, the name of the establishment was Captain Billy Whizzbang’s Old Fashion Hamburgers.  Waco’s finest.

2 Corinthians 5:20 says, “Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God were making an appeal through us; we beg you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.”

Father, thank you for quick trips that provide quick fixes for grandparents who live four hours away.  Take care of our little ones when we are apart.  Amen.