The other night newly-minted sixth grader Sam and I were at a New Orleans Zephyrs game, enjoying an evening of decent AAA baseball. Mr. Baseball (Sam) had asked me to explain a quirky play that we had just seen, and I did my best to do so. Sam continued to watch the continuing action as I spoke, his eyes never leaving the field. I asked him if my explanation made sense.
“Well, in my defense…”
“What do you mean, ‘in my defense’?” I interrupted quizzically.
“That’s what I say to kids at school when the accuse me of things.”
“Annnnnnd…..what, exactly, do they accuse you of?”
Eyes still glued to game action below, he didn’t miss a beat: “Being devilishly handsome without a license.”
His deadpan delivery was punctuated by the thud of pitched ball hitting catcher’s glove.
“Being devilishly handsome without a license?”
“Yep.” Just a hint of a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
“Just plead guilty and pay the fine.”