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What Dat?

It's no secret that I'm a bit of a tomboy and that I would much rather spend an evening watching the Pens squish the Philthadelphia Flyers than painting my nails or something silly and girly like that. As such, I long ago figured out how various sports rank in my brain. The list goes a little like this:

1. Basketball
2. Football
3. Hockey
4. Volleyball
5. Biking
10. Curling
15. Figure Skating
17. Water Polo
20. Field Hockey
24. Lacrosse
39. Underwater Basket Weaving
44. Bowling
52. Synchronized Swimming
74. Table Tennis
86. Jello Wrestling
91. Golf
103. One-handed Naked Dodgeball
109. Horizontal Bungee Jumping
116. Snowshoe Ballet
130. Synchronized Snowmobiling

And if you go through probably 400 other sports, you will eventually land on baseball. It's WAY down on the list. I know I should try to care given that we do have a so-called 'Pro' team (I use that terminology VERY loosely) in town, but I can't. I do go to games, but I'm only happy if I have a Primanti's sandwich in one hand and cotton candy in the other. The tickets have to be free and I guarantee the only on-field action I notice is the Pierogi races (go Oliver!).

Anyway, it looks like I'm passing this way of thinking on to the next generation. Earlier today we were watching PTI on ESPN and the Toddler was all about paying attention to it since there is an Elmo in the background of the set.

Every time they would show a shot with Elmo, Alexis would yell: "Ook! It's Elmo!"

When they showed some hockey highlights she said, "Ook, mommy! Penins!"

The NBA playoff clips prompted her to declare, "Basetball!"

They briefly mentioned something football-related and the Toddler yelled, "STEELERS!"

But when baseball came on? She said, "What dat?"

I'm so proud.


Too Busy Watching the Game to Post Right Now


As Lucky as You Can Get

Oh yes, we won the lottery. The Toddler? Despite all the ways she makes me crazy (usually at 2:00 am), she rocks. And hard.

One of Mr. Husband's gas guzzling over-sized vehicles was at the shop over the weekend because we really enjoy throwing money at mechanics and watching them use it to wipe up grease puddles. We needed to pick it up this evening, which essentially meant our whole night would have to be jam-packed if we wanted to fit in a bath, dinner, and all the other important things we do every evening (you know, like obsess over a certain fish tank). We figured we would save a little time by seeking out the most nutritious meal imaginable while running around and, thus, ended up at McDonald's. After all, there is nothing more nutritious than a pile of French fries with a side of ketchup.

The only obstacle in our quest for world domination was the Toddler. Specifically, her inability to eat anything resembling a meal in less than two days time. Seriously, she is the s l o w e s t eater I have ever seen. She's almost always last to finish eating at daycare. It takes her an hour to eat one waffle. It's really a good thing she doesn't eat meat because I'm pretty sure that a dead cow would eventually figure out how to regenerate its legs and walk away while she putzed around.

Normally I don't care if she opts to turn a couple of French fries and a handful of apple slices into an all-night fiesta, but since we were in a hurry tonight, I figured I would try to con her into getting her little piehole into gear. I told her that if she hurried, she could play on the slide at McDonald's. She was pretty enthused by the agreement and actually managed to eat a whole French fry in less than five minutes. It was AMAZING.

So, the kid was gushing about how she was going to play on the slide and was generally nothing but giggles and grins as we started to walk out. I went to push the door to the play area and . . .

. . . It was locked.

I looked down at Alexis, scrunching my face in preparation for the fit of the century. My brain raced through ways I could convince the manager to open the door, most of them involving obscenities about how 50 degrees is not too cold for a kid to be playing outside, you stupid *^*&%*& wimp.

Alexis grinned and said, "I get to pay on side!"

I cautiously replied, "Honey, we can't go play on the slide. The door is closed."

And cringe. I might have even covered my head to protect it from the impending tiny fists of fury.

My attempts at self-preservation were met with silence.

I slowly opened my eyes and Alexis said, "Da door cwosed. No pay." She promptly turned around and walked back into the seating area.

After I regained consciousness, we got in the car and made our way home. Along the way, I rewarded her AWESOME behavior by kicking her butt 8 to 1 in a game of LELLOW CAR!

Of course I keep score. How else will I know what numbers to play in the lottery?