Buy me some peanuts and peas & chicken dinnner!?!

This past Monday our ward went to Shea Stadium for our Stake's annual Baseball Family Home Evening. So our little family boarded the 7 train and headed to Flatbush. We made it to the stadium at the bottom of the first inning and made it to our seats about the top of the third--you see there was some traffic ascending the stadium and we had to stop at base camp while our Sherpa asked for directions and rested the yaks, oh and, it took our lungs an inning to acclimate to the high altitude. I didn't think LaGuardia would let planes fly that close to the stadium but I did see that a particular Delta pilot thought the Mets were number one.

Anyway, I digress, we arrived to our seats, tipped our Sherpa, fed the yaks a hot dog and settled in for the game. I've observed over the last 8 months of parenthood that the first thing that HAS to be done upon reaching any new environment is change Morgan's diaper... for example, Morgan wakes up and I fetch him from his crib--that constitutes a change in environment and Morgan must be changed. I've observed this but it hasn't really affected any change in my behavior. After we got settled Beth asked--just like she always does--"Did you change his diaper." "No," I said. "But i have determined the quickest way to the concession stand from here and no less than three emergency routes to the restrooms. Doesn't that count for something?"--just like I always do. "Besides, don't you have to pee?" I'm pretty sure that Beth is the "Jesse James" of the diaper--quicker on the draw than anyone I've ever even heard of! She can dispense diapers and wipes like Gandhi dispenses pacifist quips. But I think even the Ol' Mahatma would have been impressed with my quick location of the nearest Cracker Jacks.

Another 8-month observation is that "Progress waits for no man... ly activity." Specifically, Morgan's progress and more specifically, anything I may be remotely interested in. The game was just another venue for us to do all the normal stuff we do to Morgan just with smaller, more uncomfortable seats, and less attention from dad. I was concerned with hits and errors on the field and Beth was interested in me hitting Morgan on the head every time something happened and my errors putting on his pajamas--incidentally forcing a head through an arm hole is tougher than getting a force at home plate.

So the game wore on and the Met's season continued to dissolve like a Popsicle in New York's August heat. The only thing that made the game exciting was the boundless energy displayed by Morgan as he "Dadaa, dadaa-ed" the Mets to victory. Around the 5th inning we decided to play pin the Peas & Chicken Dinner on Moran. It's a fun game, quickly becoming my favorite. The goal of the game is to get as much of the non-discript food blend on Morgan's bib without letting too much be ingested for nutritional value. For fun--try cheering for your local sports club, interacting with friendly ward members and balancing a baby on your lap. It didn't take long to finish the bottle and the nourishment was spread out for about three seats in every direction--its a team sport!

About time for the seventh inning stretch Moran was starting to show the same control as the Met's middle reliever so we decided to pull him and head for home. We packed up our little portable, take-your-child everywhere kit and began the long descent to the street--we left the Sherpa and yak's (one of them was singing "Take me out to the ball game")--and made our way to the subway.

When we arrived home--and since then--I have had the chance to reflect. One, it was great to take Morgan to his first sporting event (I hope there are lots more). Two, now that we are parents, we are parents wherever we go--there isn't an off season and just like football, its a contact sport. And finally, three, of all the emergency routes to the bathroom--take the one with the fewest yaks--they take forever.