About three years ago, our family finally got season tickets to the Cubs. (And to think, you thought the reason the team’s been struggling so much didn’t have anything to do with Murphy’s Law and the Stricklands.) After years of yearning for some season seats, when the opportunity finally arose we almost turned it down. Two seats? For a family of five? Ridiculous. It couldn’t possibly work.
In actuality, it could not have worked out better. I couldn’t imagine the logistics involved in upheaving our myriad schedules so all five of us could enjoy some family time at a game—nine times a season. With two seats, we can always find two people who can fit it in. But the absolute best part of these two seats? The one-on-one time we get to spend together at the games.
With three kids, my husband and I both get to take each kid to a game, with a few games left over for my husband and I to have a “baseball date”, or to go with one of our friends. Mostly we go on baseball dates.
But back to the one-on-one time. As I mentioned, we’re a family of five with busy schedules (like every other family out there). Finding extended periods of time, like four hours over the course of a ballgame, to be alone with just one of our kids, it’s priceless. Walking to the field, sitting in the stands, it’s interesting to see the personality that comes out when none of their siblings are around. One son and I talk almost constantly. (Sorry, we’re those people.) My other son and I often don’t have a conversation until the fifth inning. My daughter? She’s the one who’s most in to baseball—asking all sorts of questions, like "What’s an ERA?" I can tell her it’s Earned Run Average, and the lower the better, but how they calculate it? “Better ask your father.”
Today my husband took Ethan to the game. (Tanya has a study group this afternoon and Kyle has homework to finish.) With a high today of 49 and the wind blowing in off the lake, I told my husband I’d be happy to go in his place, which is when he figured out whoever stayed back would be home with six teenagers. Even if the Cubs lose and they come home with frostbite ("Men don't bring blankets to the game!") those two know they got the better end of the deal. All I can say is, "Wait'll next game.")
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