I'm not much of an athlete, but I don't mind watching sports at all.  I like basketball, but mostly if it's a high school game - they don't move as fast, and I feel great swells of pride as parents watch and students cheer.  I like football, but mainly because I have a vast array of game-appropriate recipes from which to choose.  Baseball is my favorite - it doesn't move too fast, you pretty much know what to expect, the rules aren't very complicated, and I've watched probably 1,000 games.  So this weekend, when we took the kids to the Twins game, it was with great pride that I could give Martin a baseball primer. 

He sat on my lap as I whispered in his ear, explaining what was happening in the game.  "See that guy?  He's the batter and he's waiting for the ball to come - that's called the pitch."  I showed him the umpire, and explained how he uses hand signals to call each pitch.  I think we could have sat there all night (which would have been a REALLY long night as the game went 13 innings), but Sophie didn't quite have the same stamina for the game.  At the top of the fourth she started to get wiggly, and by the bottom of the fourth she was having a full on tantrum.  If you were at the Dome on Saturday night and heard someone screaming loud enough for you to consider setting down your beer and dome dog, you can rest easy, it was only Sophie as I carried her out of the stadium.

Here we are in happier times - before the start of the time of the game when we were still fully stocked with snacks (round one):


And for proof that I actually attended the game, here's pretty much the same shot but with me in it: