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Baseball night
Jun. 3rd, 2004 12:56 pmWell. The lovely icon ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
darthfox made for me will be the official baseball account icon, I guess. The ice cream guy knows all about children psychology and has a way of showing up 15 minutes before the end of the games. Picture Tadpole bobbing up and down excitedly, pointing to the van and screaming "I SPLEAM! I SPLEAM!" and distracting both teams.
We arrived right on time yesterday. Froglet pointed to the last parking spot and exclaimed "Oh look, mommy, we're extra lucky! It's the last spot!" Well. I wouldn't have called that luck. All the other drivers appeared to have carefully avoided the one spot that was located smack in the middle of a 2-inch deep mud puddle. But I didn't really have a choice. So I sacrificed my shoes and carried the kids through the mud over to the shores.
They played. The coach didn't tell us we had won so I figure we lost, but as froglet said: "we had fun, that's the most important". I spent the entire game trying to get Tadpole to focus on blowing lallydions, since her tiny blue sausage of a finger didn't allow anything else. (She's fine though. She still gives me her right hand to hold, even when I'm standing on her left side so it doesn't make sense unless she's walking backwards, but otherwise she's cheerful enough).
And then - I spleam time! Froglet asked for vanilla with sprinkles. Tadpole asked for chocolate with sprinkles, although she had no idea what sprinkles were.
I should have known better.
Picture a tiny toddler shrieking in fury and pointing her finger at an adult who appears to be trying to eat all the sprinkles off an ice cream as quickly as humanly possible without touching the ice cream.
"I didn't think you'd stoop so low as to steal an ice-cream from a baby" purred a voice in my ear. Needless to say, I choked on the sprinkles and took a nose-dive. Tadpole screamed a tad louder.
The voice belonged to Froglet's coach, looking smug and frankly amused by his own joke. We had a nice, baseball-free chat, brief because Tadpole kept reminding me that I was to lick off the sprinkles ASAP or else.
Once they were all done with the ice cream I carried them across the mud puddle again and we headed home. Which is when I realized I still had chocolate ice-cream on the tip of my nose.
Well. The coach used to think I was completely retarded. Now he just thinks I'm a tiny bit weird. Huh. Can't even blame him.
darthfox made for me will be the official baseball account icon, I guess. The ice cream guy knows all about children psychology and has a way of showing up 15 minutes before the end of the games. Picture Tadpole bobbing up and down excitedly, pointing to the van and screaming "I SPLEAM! I SPLEAM!" and distracting both teams.We arrived right on time yesterday. Froglet pointed to the last parking spot and exclaimed "Oh look, mommy, we're extra lucky! It's the last spot!" Well. I wouldn't have called that luck. All the other drivers appeared to have carefully avoided the one spot that was located smack in the middle of a 2-inch deep mud puddle. But I didn't really have a choice. So I sacrificed my shoes and carried the kids through the mud over to the shores.
They played. The coach didn't tell us we had won so I figure we lost, but as froglet said: "we had fun, that's the most important". I spent the entire game trying to get Tadpole to focus on blowing lallydions, since her tiny blue sausage of a finger didn't allow anything else. (She's fine though. She still gives me her right hand to hold, even when I'm standing on her left side so it doesn't make sense unless she's walking backwards, but otherwise she's cheerful enough).
And then - I spleam time! Froglet asked for vanilla with sprinkles. Tadpole asked for chocolate with sprinkles, although she had no idea what sprinkles were.
I should have known better.
Picture a tiny toddler shrieking in fury and pointing her finger at an adult who appears to be trying to eat all the sprinkles off an ice cream as quickly as humanly possible without touching the ice cream.
"I didn't think you'd stoop so low as to steal an ice-cream from a baby" purred a voice in my ear. Needless to say, I choked on the sprinkles and took a nose-dive. Tadpole screamed a tad louder.
The voice belonged to Froglet's coach, looking smug and frankly amused by his own joke. We had a nice, baseball-free chat, brief because Tadpole kept reminding me that I was to lick off the sprinkles ASAP or else.
Once they were all done with the ice cream I carried them across the mud puddle again and we headed home. Which is when I realized I still had chocolate ice-cream on the tip of my nose.
Well. The coach used to think I was completely retarded. Now he just thinks I'm a tiny bit weird. Huh. Can't even blame him.
