Girls of Summer

I love baseball.

I learned to love baseball from my father, who, I'm sorry to say, is a Mets fan.

There's something of a family tradition when it comes to unfailing loyalty to a team that constantly disappoints, or at worst, breaks your heart.

My granny is a lifelong Cubs fan, the poor thing.  When she and my granddaddy were dating as teenagers, he would drop her off at Wrigley, buy her a hotdog, and wait outside with a book while she scored the game from the bleachers.

She feels personally responsible for the end of the 2003 season.

I will never forget my first game.  I was about the age the girls are now, and my dad told me I could make all the noise I wanted.  I screamed through seven innings and then passed out.  I was hooked for life.

Of course I married a baseball fan.

Every year, for our anniversary, we go to a baseball game.

And this year?  We brought the girls.  To their first baseball game.

It was awesome.

I wanted to plan a road trip for us to spend the weekend in Pittsburgh to catch MY team play... but M's team was in Chicago playing the Sox for the week, and we decided... on the whole... it made much more sense not to drag our family (and a very pregnant Becoming SuperMommy) across three states just to enjoy the luxuries of PNC Park.

So despite the hazards of doing so, we all went to the Cel and rooted for the Twins.

...enjoy the photo spam!

Nobody was more excited about the game than Poppa.  Well, maybe SI.

The seventh inning stretch was FASCINATING

Daddy needed some help with his hat

Whenever a White Sox player hits a homer, they get fireworks.  Sadly, we saw a lot of fireworks that night.

Sometimes fireworks can be scary.  But mostly they're fun!

SI wearing mommy's hat- we might not have gone to Pittsburgh, but I still showed my team spirit.  :)

Daddy and the girls' first cotton candy!  DD didn't like it- she must not really be my child.

A Mauer homer!  Yay!

DD in mommy's hat