April 8, 2011 by Marj Hatzell
Tuesday night we took Bug Boy to see our Hometown Boys, the Phillies. The Guy I Live With just HAPPENED to mention to Bug Boy while he was doing homework that he might purchase tickets, so naturally that meant Bug Boy had to go RIGHT NOW ARE WE GOING NOW DAD ARE WE GOING and that was mostly the end of the homework. I coulda swatted him (the hubs) because HELLO! Don’t mention doing something fun during homework! And the rest of the time until we left for the game was spent panicking over finding his old tee ball glove, finding his Phillies shirt and hat, which shoes he’d wear and OH! I’m bringing my camera JUST IN CASE I CATCH A BALL.
And then I went to print out the tickets, only to find the husband had bought them for the next night. Ahem.
Which was bad. Because, well, Bug Boy? That just wouldn’t work, see. So we scrambled, resold the tickets, called the box office and tried to get new seats for Tuesday. Only to find out that it was twice the price of the next night. Although they were better seats. So we took ’em anyways. Sigh. And then we spent the rest of the time leading up to the game trying to convince Bug Boy that we weren’t stopping at Tarzhay to buy a newer, better glove or a baseball helmet or more Phillies gear.
The whole ride to the game was, “OMG ARE WE THERE ARE WE THERE ARE WE THERE CAN I GET A HOTDOG” and “WE’RE GONNA BE LATE. DAD. IT’S 6:36! THE GAME STARTS AT 7:05!” Serious anxiety, yo. He wouldn’t shaddup. Seriously, it was one disconnected thought to another, “I want to get cotton candy and a hotdog and I know I can’t have ice cream since I’m allergic to milk but maybe they have water ice and I hope they are giving something out tonight because that would be awesome DAD! IT’S FOURTEEN MINUTES UNTIL SEVEN! THE GAME STARTS AT SEVEN OH FIVE! And then I want to go see if I can get the Phanatic’s autograph are our seats on the first level? Because I know all of the words to the National Anthem.”
My head was spinning, too. I understand your pain.
He was dancing at every inning. And they were getting a good, old-fashioned spanking from the Mets. And at the eighth inning, when he had spent the whole game dancing, waving at cameras, yelling at the people on the Jumbotron because they weren’t paying attention to themselves on tv and doing the wave, he began to meltdown.
They were totally awesome seats. And it was damn cold. But the seats were good, even if they WERE losing like nine million to one or something. But see, when you take a Bug Boy to the baseball game? The winning team should be the HOME team because during the seventh inning stretch they say, “ROOT ROOT ROOT FOR THE PHILLIES, IF THEY DON’T WIN IT’S A SHAME. THEY AREN’T WINNING! IT’S A SHAME, MOM! WAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!”
What were we thinking?
Yeah. Autism at the Phillies. It might be a while before we head back. Unless they are absosmurfly guaranteed to win. See, we didn’t think that part through, beings it was the Mets and stuff and C’MON! The Phils! They rock! But sometimes they lose, see. Like the night we went and spent 3X what we should have to take Bug Boy to the game.
Tomorrow I’ll tell you about my accompanying the fourth grade field trip to the state capitol yesterday and how I lost Bug Boy three times. Fun!