Like most little boys, Boybat is impervious to the elements and wasn't phased by the rain or the cold. I, on the other hand, was in competition with my dad as to who could string together whole sentences (quietly) using nothing but curse words to describe how stupid it was for us to be sitting there in the rain. Fortunately, Grandma Ginny was there to explain what was going on on the field, taught him how to read the scoreboard, remembered to bring a blanket and bought him a stuffed team mascot that he hasn't let go of yet.
He loved the whole experience–the game, the crowd, the food.
After I defrosted and dried out, I realized I had fun there, too. We'll go again.
Not til mid-July, though.
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