He said, “Game’s on.
I said, “Do you want a beer?”
He said, “I’ll split one with you.”
I said, “I already listened to the first inning in the car, you’re going to want more than a half a beer.”
She said (that would be Alex), “Buster Posey looks like he’s in the 7th grade. He is too young to be that good. He needs to go back to the minors for a few more years.”
He said, “Pass the mustard, please.”
She said, “Dad, I looked ahead at the score, you’re going to be happy again.”
I said, “I am getting another beer.”
He said, “I can’t believe they are up by 6. Could they have not used some of these runs in the other games?”
I said, “Don’t worry, it will be a one run game eventually.” (Oh ye of little faith)
She said, “I just can’t get into it.”
He said, “You will when you’re 55 and your team has never won a World Series.”
She said, “That won’t happen, because I am going to be the athletic trainer for the Cardinals, and they will always win.”
Then she said, “They look like frickin hobos.”
I said, “You better add more time to the TV.”
He said, “I have an hour, it will be fine.” He said that right before Brian Wilson came on and the recording ended.
Five minutes later. “They gave up 3 more runs, it was 11-7.”
I said, “I will get out the Rocky Road ice cream.”
And then we all cuddled on the couch and watched Modern Family. And that’s what happened in our house last night.