Ah the Memories!
We decided to take the boys to Cleveland to watch the Yankees play - 2 of 3 of the boys love the Yanks - the other hates them, but loves rooting against them. Our plan was to drive down on Saturday, stay overnight and catch the game on Sunday before heading back to our lives. We made a lot of memories in just that short window of time.
Jake and I schooled Matt and Sam in 3 games of Clue as Kathy got ready for the game. The key moment of the competition was when I pretended to be an interviewer and cornered Sam after the game 3 defeat."What do you think of your partner?" I teased. "He absolutely sucked," Sam answered.
At the game, we were fortunate enough to get good seats (thanks Mom!) and the boys were able to get within twenty or thirty feet of Jeter and A-Rod - we have some wonderful photos, and Sam led the way, walking brazenly up to the gate to shout to them to turn in his direction.
The Yanks clung to a 1-0 lead late in the game. The Indians had a runner at 3rd with 2 outs, and I was shifting a bit uncomfortably in my seat. I turned to the boys and asked if they were nervous. "Actually," Sam said, "At this very moment, I was wondering what Scooby and the gang are up to."
I thought Jake might split a side from laughing.
Matt, on the other hand, cheered loudest when the Indians did something good. I nearly lost it when I understood that I was paying for the seat he was sitting in to root against my team, but I got him his freaking cheese fries anyway. And the Yanks won - no harm - no foul.
On the way home, I turned to Kathy.The boys were watching a DVD or listening to their I-Pods.
"What a good trip," I said. "No episodes."
About ten minutes from home the boys grew tired of the DVD and changed into what we call 'Hee-Hee' and 'Haw-Haw.' (For the record, neither my wife nor I am too fond of these characters).
I turned to scold them, but Kathy reminded me that they were just playing. Literally yards from our home, Jake whacked Sam and Sam swung back - perfect shot - in the nose - the geyser of blood scared all of us and led to a real quiet remainder of the evening.
I must say - the sight of a child's blood is at least disconcerting and at most absolutely impossible to take.
Ah, the memories. After stopping the bleeding, Kathy and I took turns trying to calm the boys. Matt was worried about Jake. Jake was worried about the fact that Sam was upset for hitting him. We were all worried about Jake's nose. My heart was in my throat, the game long since forgotten.
As I sat on the edge of Jake's bed to say good-night, he moved the ice bag and spoke, "I wonder what Scooby and the gang are up to," he said, and we laughed for ten more minutes.
Jake and I schooled Matt and Sam in 3 games of Clue as Kathy got ready for the game. The key moment of the competition was when I pretended to be an interviewer and cornered Sam after the game 3 defeat."What do you think of your partner?" I teased. "He absolutely sucked," Sam answered.
At the game, we were fortunate enough to get good seats (thanks Mom!) and the boys were able to get within twenty or thirty feet of Jeter and A-Rod - we have some wonderful photos, and Sam led the way, walking brazenly up to the gate to shout to them to turn in his direction.
The Yanks clung to a 1-0 lead late in the game. The Indians had a runner at 3rd with 2 outs, and I was shifting a bit uncomfortably in my seat. I turned to the boys and asked if they were nervous. "Actually," Sam said, "At this very moment, I was wondering what Scooby and the gang are up to."
I thought Jake might split a side from laughing.
Matt, on the other hand, cheered loudest when the Indians did something good. I nearly lost it when I understood that I was paying for the seat he was sitting in to root against my team, but I got him his freaking cheese fries anyway. And the Yanks won - no harm - no foul.
On the way home, I turned to Kathy.The boys were watching a DVD or listening to their I-Pods.
"What a good trip," I said. "No episodes."
About ten minutes from home the boys grew tired of the DVD and changed into what we call 'Hee-Hee' and 'Haw-Haw.' (For the record, neither my wife nor I am too fond of these characters).
I turned to scold them, but Kathy reminded me that they were just playing. Literally yards from our home, Jake whacked Sam and Sam swung back - perfect shot - in the nose - the geyser of blood scared all of us and led to a real quiet remainder of the evening.
I must say - the sight of a child's blood is at least disconcerting and at most absolutely impossible to take.
Ah, the memories. After stopping the bleeding, Kathy and I took turns trying to calm the boys. Matt was worried about Jake. Jake was worried about the fact that Sam was upset for hitting him. We were all worried about Jake's nose. My heart was in my throat, the game long since forgotten.
As I sat on the edge of Jake's bed to say good-night, he moved the ice bag and spoke, "I wonder what Scooby and the gang are up to," he said, and we laughed for ten more minutes.
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