Wednesday, July 09, 2008

 

A Minor League Baseball Game, Through the Eyes of Three Seven-Year-Olds

When do we get snacks?

Now?

Now?

Stand up? Aw, man...

I can do an armpit fart. Watch!

Oh, yeah? Mine's better!

(Dancing)

Hot dogs!

I have to go to the bathroom.

Me too!

I'll go with you!

(Cartwheels in the men's room. Literally.)

I want popcorn!

I want ice cream!

(Dancing)

(Climbing railings)

Ice cream! (celebration ensues)

I have to go to the bathroom.

Me too!

I'll go with you!

(Urinal bumping. Don't ask.)

Seventh inning what?

(Dancing)

I want lemonade!

Me too!

Aw, man...

I have to go to the bathroom.

Me too!

(return)

Who won?

Comments:
Aren't minor-league games wonderful? Imagine if you had paid the ticket and concession costs for 7-year-olds at a MLB stadium... My now-teenaged daughter remembers going to a Nashville Sounds game when she was 5, or at least the ice cream in a cup shaped like a baseball cap.
 
Wait--I don't see anything about trying to catch foul balls in there. The Snork Maiden and her friends' obsession with this pursuit easily outstrips their interest in the actual game. Snacks come second. Bathroom trips, third.
 
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