Brad is watching on the West Coast. It is weird to watch sports without him. Basically he serves as my own personal sportscaster. I can blog, read, plan my Seminary lesson, or sleep on the sofa and he'll keep me informed. I like his commentary and explanations. Also his snacks. Brad makes really delightful late night snacks.
I want the Phillies to win, but it's not looking good right now. And, let's face it, I haven't done anything for them this year. So how can I demand a championship? They owe me nothing.
I'm worried about Jake, though, he's taking this very personally.
It's fun to have a pre-teen in the house. Even though Jake's social development can be a little unpredictable, he is growing into a very typical young man physically and emotionally. Just a few centimeters behind me and with a mouthful of train tracks, the kid is every inch a tween.
Of course, I'm not crazy about the mood swings and I need to spend my entire clothing budget replacing all his high-waters. But it's fun to have a male presence, someone who knows all the Phillies' names and laughs at the goofy commercials.
I like watching sports with cute boys. And this one still lets me kiss him goodnight.