My favorite moment of this summer's baseball season has nothing to do with the pros, either the majors or the minors. Nor does it have to do with college ball, high school ball, or even little league ball. No, my favorite summer baseball moment has to do with T-ball and five-year-old Triston, who was finally old enough to play this season, much to his relief.

[Rawlings Youth Batting Gloves. Product Image from Target]

Life is progressing at a snail's pace for young Master Triston, who was reminiscing forlornly back in March about missing the "good old days," meaning Christmas. Two months for him last at least a year, so by his reckoning he's been waiting for the chance to play organized ball for over three decades. Guess I can't blame him for being a little impatient.

Opening day of T-ball season finally earned him his first pair of T-ball gloves. I intend to swipe them as soon as he grows out of them so I can save them in a keepsake chest like the one my mother stores in her attic. That is, if there's anything left of them to swipe.

Triston and those T-ball gloves are like... No, I have that backwards. Peanut butter and jelly, Batman and Robin, Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire--the greatest pairs known to human kind can not compare to Triston and these T-ball gloves.

He wears them to his aunt's house. He wears them when he plays video games. (They help him "concentrate." They help him "grip the controller better.") He even wears them to bed. Clearly, these are magic gloves. Forget the chest in the attic. As soon as those gloves are in my possession I'm going to rub them like a lamp and see what happens.

But none of these quirks or comments can live up to my favorite moment.

Day one of this love affair, Triston heads into the bathroom while we're all playing video games. Moments later, he's back. Without even looking up I say, "Triston, I didn't hear the toilet flush."

"Oops!" he says and runs back to flush it. Sploosh. He appears in the living room again.

"Triston," I say, "I didn't hear the water run. Go wash your hands."

This time he beams with pride. "I don't need to! See?" And he holds up his hands.

You guessed it: he was still wearing the gloves.

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