This little guy just turned three yesterday. Up to this point, it's been all about baseball. He (along with most of the family) is a big Tampa Bay Rays fan, having attended games since he was an infant. One of his favorite gifts was a Carlos Pena t-shirt which he insisted on wearing to bed the day he got it. But now, he's discovered a new sport.
Schupball. At least, that's how he somewhat pronounces it. We call it "football." His mom noticed him staring fascinatedly at the TV screen whenever he saw a football game on. He suddenly wanted to play with the football in our garage rather than the baseball. We're not sure where this love of the game came from.
So the other night, Boppa and I decided we would take him to a real "schupball" game -- my high school was playing my husband's former school. His mommy and daddy had a dinner date with friends so we took off.
He was a real trooper, even though it seemed like 100% humidity and my team was losing horribly. It didn't matter -- he was rooting for the other team anyway ("I want white," he said, even though I told him my team was the blue one.) That's okay, he roots for the wrong college team too! (Take that, Daddy!)
We left at halftime. I tried to convince him the game was over -- we waved good-bye to the team as they ran to the locker room, and even saw the "silly men" (as he called the refs because they were wearing striped shirts) leave the field. But all the way to the car, he kept pointing back to the field with that little whine that said, "I want to go back."
We got to the car and he realized there WAS no going back, so he broke into an all out cry. His face melted. If it hadn't been so late, I probably would have relented (but the first half was long because the white team must've had a penalty on every single play in the 2nd quarter!)
The next day, his daddy dropped him off around noon so they could go set up his party. As soon as Daddy left, the little guy turned to me and said, "We going to schupball?"
I guess we'll have to take him to a college game now!