Man, if only I knew what I was headed for.
Actually, if I knew, I would do it
All. Over. Again.
So now, nearly twenty (gulp) years later, I go to the ballpark, because it's still where I can see him. And I bring my little gaggle with me.
Lainey loves going to games. When she wakes up in the morning one of her first questions is
is today a day game or a night game?
She has it down to a science. She knows the roads we turn on to get there and recognizes billboards along the way. As soon as she spots it, everyone in the van knows because she yells
Every. Single. Time.
This is where she plays with her ever-changing (thanks alot trade deadline!) posse, runs in the batting cages during rain delays, and dances every time the music starts.
So long as you count jumping around and flailing your arms as dancing.
Which in this house, we do.
This is the place, where every time number 10 steps up to the plate, you will hear
DADDY! THAT'S MY DADDY!
(So much for keeping the family section private.)
This is where my Littles stay in their stroller for nearly 7 innings. So long as they're eating. Or reading. Or
They totally get it.
This ballpark is our home away from home away from home away from home. Wait,that's not right. I think I had to many away-from-homes in there. Um, you get the gist.
So, without further adieu,
First, we take the glamorous service entrance, just past the stinky garbage truck. Don't be jealous.
Then we walk down the long darkish hall in the basement...
and turn left into the elevator room. This is where the babies squeal every time they see the Buffalo Logo because they know that at the top of the ride is....
Ms. Laurie, who has pretzels for them and lollipops for Lainey. Bless their hearts. They get really excited about the pretzels. We haven't told them about lollies yet.
Snack time for the babies. This is actually their first (whole) apples. Now they won't eat them any other way. It's kinda messy. And gross.
But their teeth get really clean!
DADDY! THAT'S MY DADDY!
This is Bob, crossword puzzle doer extraordinaire, and keeper of the family room. He keeps track of who should and shouldn't be there. He replaces batteries in toys before we even ask, and he doesn't mind the chaos that is a room full of children who have been cooped up for nine innings.
And the family room. The t.v. is always tuned to the ballgame, should the babies need to stretch their legs. It's also where the Booster Club sends their leftover furniture to die.
So that's it. Our home away from home away from...
Stink, never mind.
That's the end.
It's where we are.