Last weekend, the whole clan (minus M. and cousin C. who are too young) went to see the New Britain Rock Cats play. It was a Father’s Day present for my father-in-law, who is a big baseball fan. We had great seats, front row right along the third base line. At least, I assumed they were good seats. They were close, we could see everything, and balls flew toward us with some regularity which apparently is a good thing. I’m not really a baseball fan. I am a football girl. Full contact sports interest me, standing in a field in the sun, not so much.
We got there, got drinks, found our seats and sat there. In the full sun in the 90 degree heat. After a very long time (ok, maybe half an hour) H and I decided to go down into the pavilion to cool off and get drinks. We ended up staying down there for a while, and had ice cream. S. hadn’t come with us because he had just eaten pizza, and was reading. (I know, we’re a super-sporty family. Chris’s family probably thought we were nuts.)
When H. and I came out, S. was gone. Later, he claimed that he had said he was going in for a while, and left his seat. No one sitting there heard him, however, and when he didn’t come back I went looking for him. Then Chris and I looked because he could go into men’s rooms. Then Chris’s little sister joined in. He was gone for at least an hour and a half. We ended up having the police on site page him, and they helped us look when he didn’t answer the page. He finally turned up out of seemingly nowhere, completely unaware of the trouble his disappearing act had caused.
He had been in the team store, tucked behind some shirt racks, reading the whole time. We had all gone in the very small store, and not seen him there, but he showed me where he had been and I could see why we hadn’t. He hadn’t heard the page in the store, and came out because he got thirsty and didn’t have any money.
The rest of the game went fairly smoothly. A ball (one of a few) came hurtling in our direction, bounced off my sister-in-law’s leg and into H.’s arm before bouncing back onto the field. One of the players caught it, and threw it back to H. to keep, so she has an official game ball and a bruise on her arm to prove it hit her. She was thrilled, and couldn’t wait to tell everyone who hadn’t been there with us about her cool ball. It made her day.
The rest of my week went on as usual, busier than it should be but about the same as always.
Friday, I was on the phone with S., who is at his dad’s house this weekend along with H., and I was getting a snack in the kitchen for M. While my back was turned, she decided to see what happened when she pulled the stick out of the window. The one holding the 1931-era window open. As it turns out, what happens is that it slams down on your hand and pins you there when you take the stick out. Lesson learned. One trip to the emergency room and two x-rays later, she only has bruises, no broken bones.
Such is life with kids. When exactly does school start? Soon?