On Tuesday, we took Luke to his first baseball game. I thought he was still too young, but his step-cousins were in town and they really wanted to go, so we joined them. Being the protective mama, I'm making all these rules, like we'll go as soon as he gets tired and he doesn't have to watch the game if he doesn't want to. We even took two cars so we could leave because I was sure Luke would want to go home early.
It just goes to show you that women know absolutely nothing about men, even the ones that once grew inside them. Luke had a blast. We stayed until the game was over and even then he didn't want to go home. He watched most of the game and jumped up and cheered at every home run. He ate popcorn, Cracker Jack and a hot dog. He even sang the song at the 7th inning stretch- only at the end, instead of saying go Rangers, he said go Red Sox.
We had a great time, even though we got home much too late for my tastes. I'm glad I went and got to see my son at a baseball game for the first time. It was a rite of passage I feel privileged to have witnessed.
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