It was 93 degrees here in San Diego today. After getting up at 4:00 AM to go into the office and continue work on the largest proposal effort I'll touch in 2009, I came home to spend time with my son, Jalen.
He and I watched the A's/Rays game, a little bit of the Padres/Giants tilt (San Diego got a hit, Vig! I think they won the game!) and then, after a father and son road trip to 7-11 for a nutritious Wild Cherry Slurpee and a Nestle's chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwich, we went outside and actually played some baseball.
Jalen likes to pretend he's the Oakland A's. He'll hit right-handed like Matt Holliday or left-handed like Jack Cust and he even strikes out like everyone else in our goddam lineup. Meanwhile, I have to be whatever team pops into his head. Today, for example, he insisted I play the role of the National League All-Star team. I am not making this up.
The point, again, is that is was 93 DEGREES outside. We were out there for 90 minutes as I tried to remember my imaginary National League All-Star team batting order by the third or fourth "inning". But, whatever…I indulge his fantasy because it's baseball and we've been doing this every Sunday for several months. Even though, he NEVER lets ME be the A's.
I was feeling pretty proud of myself – mostly for the 10 pounds I sweated away this afternoon – but, partially in appreciation of being a parent. I looked forward to settling in for the evening, when I walked in on Jalen watching the below commercial:
When it ended, Jalen turned towards me, cackled manically and punched me in the stomach as hard as he could while
Homer Simpson (calling into the nuclear plant): "You heard me, I won't be in for the rest of the week. I told you! My baby beat me up! No, it is NOT the worst excuse I ever thought up."
4 comments:
that is truly one of the most tasteless/tacky/awful commercials out there. That and the dancing lizard SoBe Life Water ads......
My favorite aspect of that commercial is that my wife shoots me the same dirty look every time it comes on and Jalen's in the room. As if I can anticipate the ad time purchased by ESPN's Sunday Night Baseball.
Also, I *HATE* those SoBe lizard spots, but my wife and kid love 'em. I can't win.
We've got to get our boys together-Ethan does the same fantasy baseball play- Dodgers of course. He puts on his full set of catcher's gear (saved up his own money for it) and pretends to be Russell Martin for long periods of time... And then the two boys duke it out over who gets to be various players: "I'm Orlando Hudson!" "I wanted to be O-Dog!" "You can be Andre Ethier", etc....
HA! I had to flip over to the Dodgers game last night so J could watch Manny's at bat. When I play the role of "other teams" I'm also expected to know everyone's number and which why they bat/throw.
Thankfully, LA keeps things simple. O-Dog's #13 and bats both. Ethier's #16 and bats left. I'm glad to know there are other parents out there raising baseball fanatics.
Quite the monsters we've created :)
Post a Comment