This past week the Sharp Six took in our first minor league baseball game of the year. What follows is an abbreviated diary of the experience.
Pregame: One of the great things about our local baseball team is that the park includes two playgrounds. We experienced our first meltdown of the evening by the 2-year-old Demolitions Expert who wanted to play on the playground that was closed for a birthday party. This is going well.
First Inning: With two outs in the bottom of the first inning the 6-year-old Zoologist asks when the teams are going to start playing.
Second Inning: I took a couple of kids and got everyone drinks and popcorn. The popcorn comes in a big plastic batting helmet, which is not big enough because my hand ends up functioning as a popcorn dish for children.
Third Inning: The home team hits a home run, which is cause for celebration — and fireworks. The Wife/Mom/Wonder Woman and I hold our breath waiting for the 4-year-old Ballerina, who hates fireworks, to react. She merely frowned and went back to her popcorn. Meltdown averted, we might make it through this game after all.
Fourth Inning: One of the children does something resembling a moon walk in front of our seats and nearly takes out all of the drinks. After spending approximately $85 on two Dr Peppers and two bottles of water, I nearly melt down.
Fifth Inning: The kids are hungry. The Zoologist, functioning as the spokesperson for the small humans, makes the case that they are starving and if we delay food any longer it just might be too late. We still wait until the end of the inning.
Sixth Inning: We order pizzas and find a table to eat. I am later informed that while I was waiting on the pizzas the Demolitions Expert started licking dirty, bird-pooped-bedecked benches.
Seventh Inning: The 10-month-old Jedi loves his pizza. Actually, he loves to eat period. If that kid doesn’t grow up to be a chef he will have missed his calling.
Eighth Inning: After inhaling our pizzas we are back at the playgrounds. As I observe the Ballerina I remember that I need to stop letting them watch American Ninja Warrior. I check my phone for the nearest hospital just in case.
Ninth Inning: The older three kids and I line up so that we can run the bases after the game. A foul ball nearly takes out the Jedi and Wonder Woman who are sharing churros.
Postgame: It is time to run the bases and the Demo Expert decides to meltdown between first and second. I grab her hand and we manage to make it all the way around. Pretty sure that is the angriest home run trot that stadium has ever seen.
All things considered this was a successful trip to the ballpark. We made it through an entire game for the first time as a family, and we even lowered our Meltdowns Per Nine Innings rate.
