Rakes had a soccer game tonight, and we got home around 8. (2 more goals for the 3 year old version of David Beckham, btw)
After bath time, snack time, and story time, Rakes and I settled down for a few minutes to watch the game: Angie grabbed the camera and snapped this picture of me and the boy.
What you don't see is the proceeding conversation.
Rakes: Who dat Dad?
Me: Curt Schilling.
Rakes: What him Dad?
Me: The umpire.
Rakes: Me want to go in there Dad.
Me: In where son?
Rakes: In the TV Dad: me want to sit in the dugout with Papi.
Me: Rakes, you can't do that.
Rakes: Why not Dad?
You get the drift: for the next 25 minutes, the conversation didn't deviate a whole lot from that vein. Somehow he thinks he can climb into the tv and just join right in. I'm both overjoyed and more than a little worried my 3 year old can recognize Manny, Papi, Tek, and Schill by sight.
Sitting there on the couch together, watching a game with my oldest son? Good times.
Final score? 7-3 Sox, and the Yankees are doing every thing they can to drop a game to the vaunted Tampa Bay Devil Rays. Hopefully by the morning, we have a 3 game lead in the division and a magic number to clinch at 4.
I don't know what caused the earth to spin off it's axis: all of a sudden, JD Drew is our hottest hitter, Gagne is pitching scoreless innings (with a little help from Papelbon), Manny and Youk were back in the lineup, and this team is firing on all cylinders. Whatever it is, hopefully it won't stop until November.
As for that look Rakes is giving me? I like to think it's a look of "Wow. My Dad is really cool."
However, I'm worried it's more a look of "Wow. My Dad is really deranged."
Way I look at it, it's better the boy finds out sooner rather than later his Dad is mental when it comes to the Red Sox.
Sooner he finds out, the sooner he accepts his lot in life.
Update: Dioner Navarro just hit a walk off HR for the Devil Rays: 7-6 is the final. The Red Sox have a magic number of 3 to clinch the division.