Last night we went to a really neat birthday party for Sam’s friend Zach. We headed down at the Diamond to watch the Richmond Flying Squirrels take on Bowie, MD. Sam had never been to a “real” baseball game downtown or any baseball game really, plus we were picking up two friends along the way. Needless to say, he was excited. He had a caveat nonetheless. “It’s not as much fun as when it’s my birthday.” Ah, out of the mouth of preschoolers comes the truth that is far too impolite for older people to ever admit.
By the time we got home, it seemed like we had done it all, to me at least. We driven around with his two good buddies and had eaten pizza, cake, soda, and ice cream sandwiches. We saw the birthday boy Zach throw out the first pitch. We had seen firecrackers, sat in the stands, and even met Miss America, which I admit means less than nothing to a five-tear-old boy because she is blocking the view of the field.
We also met Nutsy the Squirrel, and Sam even had the distinct honor of Nutsy trying to steal his baseball cap for a minute there. Oh, lest they be deprived, the kids got their own water bottles and lots of glow-in-the-dark bracelets (NOT to be confused with Silly Bandz).
Daddy Mac came outside and greeted us in the driveway, asking Sam, “So how was the game?” Sam responded, “I didn’t even get to play!”
At that point I requested a time-out to improve my morale with a nice cold beverage, several in fact.
LibbY
These birthday parties get more and more extravagant! How are you gonna top that?