Doubling Up

The kids didn't have any games this weekend. Fearing withdrawal, the Lovely Bride bought tickets to the local minor league baseball team.

How can you not love a team owned by Bill Veeck's kid and Bill Murray? The mascot is a pig called Mudonna, the ushers are local actors and comedians, including a 1960s housewife named Mrs. Stepford, and they're good enough that the they usually have a couple of former big leaguers on the team.

Sunday was a beautiful night, 70 degrees, a slight breeze. We tailgated with friends beforehand, watched the good guys win, and then stuck around after the game to sing "It's The End Of The World As We Know It" and "Don't Stop Believin'" and God knows what else with 6,000 other happy fans while fireworks exploded overhead for twenty minutes.

So, all good, except for the Lovely Bride missing a step and bruising the hell out of her toe. By the time we got home, she was limping pretty noticeably.

"Drink until it stops hurting," I suggested.

"That's stupid," she said.

"It works on my pain," I said, gesturing at our kids.

"Shut up, dad," they said in unison.

"I love you," I told them with as much sincerity as I could muster.

"Shut up," they said again.

"I need a drink," I said.

Toe aside, it was a great night, so much fun I decided to duplicate it on Monday, buying tickets to the local major league team.

"We're going to the game today," I told my family this morning.

"All of us?" my oldest son asked.

"Sure."

"Are we sitting together?" he asked.

"Of course."

"That's not really a good idea," he said.

"It'll be fun," I said.

"Can you drop me off in front?" asked the Lovely Bride. "My foot hurts."

"We'll leave early so we can walk together," I said.

"How much do we get for concessions?" the middle kid asked.

"Five dollars each," I said.

"I'll starve!" he howled.

"Eat before we leave," I said.

"There's no food in this house," he said, cramming three Oreos in his pocket.

"We can't afford more than that," I said. "Our stupid dog ate your friend's new shoes on Saturday night. That cost me $70."

"Can I buy something with my own money?" asked the youngest.

"You don't have any money," I reminded him.

"My birthday money," he said.

"I used it to buy the tickets," I said.

"Shut up," he said.

"Where are we going to park?" asked the oldest.

"The building I used to work," I said.

"You mean we have to walk a mile with two idiots and a gimp?" he asked.

"It''ll be fun," I implored.

"Oh, sweetie," the Lovely Bride said, not without sympathy.

"I'll have a drink when we get home," I said.

"I think that's a good idea," she said.