Kitch's pitch

When 5-year-old Carson Kitch meets someone new, he instinctively calls them a friend.

He introduces himself with his sign language name sign: a letter "C" over his heart.

Family and friends call him a miracle, but his life as a kid preparing for kindergarten in the fall would seem almost normal to outsiders.

"We have normal, but it's a very different normal," said Rhonda Kitch, Carson's mom.

Carson survived three major procedures by the time he was8 months old, including an open-heart surgery and a liver transplant. He had another open-heart surgery in February 2005.

To celebrate his success, Carson will throw out the first pitch at the Minnesota Twins game Sunday during Liver Awareness Day at the Metrodome.

His home life is like that of any enthusiastic, outgoing preschooler.

Upon walking into his Moorhead home, visitors will find a house transformed into a myriad of roads, intersections and railroad crossings where all the street signs must be obeyed.

On a recent afternoon, he kept himself busy moving signs and leaping back and forth over the sliding door frame.

He was interrupted only when his hearing aid slipped off his ear.

Carson's energy doesn't suggest he was on the brink of death before he was 8 months old. Carson was diagnosed with a heart defect andbiliary atresia, a congenital malformation of the liver's bile ducts, Rhonda said.

Ruthie Horob, Carson's grandmother, said she sees a miracle every time she looks at her grandson and isn't surprised he was chosen to prove the importance of liver donation at the Twins game.

"You run into some amazing things with this kid," she said. "You'd think I would never be amazed anymore, but I just never know what's next."

Travis Kitch, Carson's dad, said after the shock wore off, he immediately accepted the invitation for Carson.

"When you are asked if your 5-year-old son wants to throw out the first pitch, it's hard to turn that down," he said.

Amy Nelson, American Liver Foundation regional executive director, said Carson's ability to touch others with his warm personality made him a perfect candidate for the task.

"Carson has just made an impact on everyone," she said. "He is such a real success story, and I can't imagine picking anyone else."

The Kitches' normal routine consists of several daily medications, plenty of hand sanitizer and sign language to communicate through Carson's hearing loss. Trips to Minneapolis for checkups come once a year, and he has lab work every two months in the area.

But what matters most is the large list of things Carson can do despite his limitations, Rhonda said.

"We try to focus on the things he can do," she said.

Carson's summers include plenty of time outside, camping and twice-weekly horse therapy sessions.

Rhonda said horse therapy is the highlight of his week, which was evident Monday when he visited Riding on Angels' Wings in Felton, Minn. He was the goofball of the group as he rode his horse around the pen.

After finding a squirt gun in a mailbox during a therapy exercise, he spent the remaining time squirting his assistant with a huge smile on his face. His giggles echoed back to Rhonda as she stood on the sidelines.

Sherryse Mayo, Carson's direct service professional, walked alongside Carson and came back damp after he emptied his water gun in her hair and on her shirt.

"He is a walking miracle," she said. "He is the most amazing little kid I've met by far."

Although Carson doesn't completely understand what he went through, Horob said he seems to have "insight far beyond his years" and unending appreciation for life.

When Carson meets new kids on the playground, he calls them his friends, Travis said. He proudly shows off the scars on his stomach like trophies, simply naming them "owwies" and calls his liver donor his "angel friend."

He giggles when he has blood taken. He hugs everyone he meets. And he is always smiling.

"He is the happiest kid I have ever seen," Travissaid. "He's been happysince Day One, even at his sickest."

Sprawled out on the living room floor with Carson, Travis said he truly enjoys what his family calls "normal" right now.

"This is nice," he said. "I could get used to it."

Readers can reach Forum reporter Emily Kaiser at (701) 235-7311