Ben Braeden

Ben sat off to the side of the field, watching the other kids at T-Ball practice with their fathers, playing catch and practicing hitting the ball. The game was going to begin soon, and all he could do was play with the ties on his glove while he waited.

"Hey, kiddo. What's wrong?"

Ben looked up at his mother and shrugged a bit. "Nothin'. Just don't got anyone to warm up with."

Lisa smiled a bit, and went to kiss her son on the top of his head. Ben, however, shifted and got out of the way, looking at her. "Not in front of the team, Mom!"

"Ok... ok." She held her hands up. "Is there something I can do to help you warm up?"

"No. You're a mom. Moms aren't supposed to help. Dads help and Moms sit in the bleachers."

"Ben. We've been though this..."

"I know Mom." Ben rolled his eyes. "You're special because you get to be both. But you're a chick and chicks can't play ball."

"Oh really?" Lisa got up and took the baseball out of her son's glove. "Go stand out by third base."

Ben raised an eyebrow, then sighed and ran out to the base. Lisa watched him a moment, then tossed the ball to her son - overhand - so that it would reach him easily, but gentle enough not to hurt him. Ben caught the ball, then looked at his mother in shock.

"So? What you think about that?" Lisa asked him.

"That was awesome!" Ben threw the ball back, not making it all the way but it got there. "You really rock, Mom."

"I'm glad you think so," Lisa said with a smile. "So can I help now?"

Ben thought a moment, then nodded. "Sure. You're better than half the dads anyway. They only toss underhand."

Camping - Ben had always wanted to go camping with his father. With the boy scouts, or an RV trip with Mom cooking the fish they managed to catch.

Sitting around a campfire telling scary stories while making s'mores. Dad pretending there was a bear in the forest that would come out and get them, then crawling into his lap for safety at every cracking twig.

Falling asleep trying to count the stars, no matter how many times Mom said there were too many.

Skipping stones. Boating. Fishing. Hiking. The whole nine yards.

That would be Ben's perfect dream vacation.