Enough already!
Now that we're married, I feel like it's time for the truth to come out. I know...I know...David could very possibly feel like he bought into a lemon, but one can only hide behind a mask for so long before the ugly truth comes out.
And since we're married, that makes it a done deal.
I feel that under the safety and protection of marital contract, I can now be honest and show my true colors. Because what's he going to do? Last time I checked, though children come with return policies, spouses do not (I think unless you're Catholic?)...
I *like* baseball. And that's about it. And as the end of baseball season slowly comes to an end, I feel as though there is a light at the end of the tunnel and soon our family can function like a normal one without the ever present lurking of MLB -- hovering around us, in my home, my car, my husband's soul, and my child's young and impressionable mind.
I am almost afraid of the day that the Giants win the World Series. David could very possibly request that we permanently mark our bodies with the orange and black letters to memorialize the monumentous occassion. Thank goodness we are not of Hispanic descent; GIGANTES is a lot of letters.
Oh, gosh...
Now, I'm feeling guilty. Sorry, David. I know, I am violating the vows I made on our wedding day:
I, Grace, take you, David and the SF Giants, to be my husband and home team, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.
Minds grow less and less malleable over the years. So David's attempt to completely brainwash me has been marginally successful. Like I said, I *like* the Giants. Since Omar's retirement, there has been less of an appeal, but Lincecum is fun to watch on occassion. Most entertaining are the idiots who scramble and clamor all over each other for a worthless foul ball. I was at Walmart the other day and you can buy a whole bucket for $20 bucks.
But take a brand new baby with a blank canvas for a mind; a person could do horrible things. David has been programming the child to be a Giants FUH-NAH-TICK. He insists that it is inate. An inborn, internally driven interest that we should nurture and cultivate. But I think some foul play is at work when my two year old screams "COFFEE!" whenever we pass a Starbucks and cries out "Giants!" at the sight of the Bay Bridge.
Members of the Jury, I present to you my case:
At two years of age, Noah has developed an obsession.
He is OBSESSED with baseball. And, yes, I would categorize it in the fanatical range. Possibly requiring some rehabilitation.
- The first thing he asks for in the morning is milk and ball.
- The first thing he does in the morning is grab his ball, bat and glove.
- He plays ball when he wakes up.
- He plays ball before he goes to sleep.
- His favorite movie is 'Fever Pitch'.
- He sees YouTube on the browser and expects to watch 'Ball'.
- His bed time song is 'Take me out to the ballgame'.
- He prefers KNBR over 'VeggieTales'.
- His preschool teacher noted the Giants backpack, Giants lunchbox, and Giants jacket.
- We fulfill his vocabulary quota at doctor's visits with baseball terminology. The average 2 year old should possess about 50 words. At our last visit he had about 15. 10 of which were related to various activities on the field: ball, pitch, homerun, 'Caught it!' (that counts as two), bat, 'Out!', 'Go Giants!', 'Strike!'.
But, put yourself in my shoes. It's not just my kid. David's all up in that madness too. Fo' reelz do! Now, is it home fritters or home fries? See, I get so worked up, it makes the ghetto come out in me.
I leave you with these images as my closing statements:
