Seven Innings

When your internet isn't working, you take the first free picture you can find off Wikipedia. In this case, that free thing is a giant baseball. Enjoy.

When your internet isn’t working, you take the first free picture you can find off Wikipedia. In this case, that free thing is a giant baseball. Enjoy.

My internet is doing the dance of death today, so if there are more disjointed thoughts than usual in this post, please know that it’s a technology problem and not my usual literary prowess.

Now then, by way of wearing tinfoil hat while holding onto my computer, my faulty signal and I shall try and relay this past weekend’s events. Because what’s better than toting three kids under four to their first baseball game?

Besides pajama jeans.

Right, so initially I branded Husband’s plan to grab the tickets, throw jerseys on our little fan club and position them in front of neatly kept grass as a tad bit crazy. But after we nixed thoughts of leaving them on the neighbor’s lawn, we found ourselves color-coordinated and on the way to Kauffman stadium.

Guest Announcer: Folks, this one for the record books. Let’s see what happened…

1st Inning: All children are assigned seats and distributed one soft pretzel with cheese. The baby finishes his formula and thinks it might be nice to try and throw his bottle at the row in front of us. Play ball.

2nd Inning: Fastest game in history of I Spy is recorded. i.e. “I spy something white and it’s home plate!”

3rd Inning : Sundance declares she is not a fan of pretzels and cheese but will try and entertain the baby, who’s eagerly trying to crawl under the seats and go home with someone from the opposing team.

4th Inning: Fly ball lands right next to our seats. Husband makes it clear that he would’ve had it, but chose to protect Sundance instead. He seems slightly conflicted about this, but hides his shifty eyes in a conveniently-placed beer glass.

5th Inning: I go to the bathroom four times in this inning. None of these trips are to relieve myself, but to watch futilely the children who claim to have to go, yet miraculous don’t have to once we make it to the stall. The doorman looks confused until I explain with, “It’s ok. I didn’t want to watch the game anyway.”

6th Inning: The baby begins clapping and cheering, sure that the thousands of others clapping and cheering are finally recognizing how hilarious he is.

7th Inning: The Kellermans tap out and head to the fountains to dunk all three toasty children.

Final Score: This author is unsure, but thinks it may have been something close to 2 melted chocolate malts to 3 sips of her own drink.

But still, we’ll call it a success.

Paige Kellerman blogs about marriage, babies and gin at www.paigekellerman.com, and is the author of At Least My Belly Hides My Cankles: Mostly-True Tales of An Impending Miracle. You can reach her at paigekellerman@gmail.com.

She also hides out on Twitter and Facebook.


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