After getting home @7:30 and scarfing down a hamburger, Rakes and I spent the next hour and 15 minutes helping Sponge Bob fight his way through Goo Lagoon on the PS2. I finally convinced him to watch a few minutes of Handy Manny before he went to bed; as we got his water and headed to my bedroom, he was talking non-stop about getting through Bikini Bottom on his game, why did Anakin Skywalker have a blue light saber instead of a red one, and is Manny's long hair really his.
After about 10 minutes of non-stop chatter, the following exchange took place:
Me: "Rakes, you are making me weak in the knees with all these questions."
Rakes: Dad! YOU are making ME beak in de knees ben you don't answer!"
Kid's got a point.
Although this happened a few days ago, I feel like I need to get this one down in writing so I won't forget it. Rakes, upon finding something on the hall chest in the foyer decides he needs to share it with me.
Rakes: "Oooh. Bhat is dis, Dad?"
Me: (sleep deprived from the first 2 Sox/Mariner games) "It's probably something Trot picked out of his nose; go throw it away in the trash can."
Rakes: (with the most devilish grin you can imagine) "I dust ate it, Dad."
He's 4 years old.
What in God's name is he going to be saying in 5 years? Or 10?
It's nights like this I need the Red Sox to help me keep myself sane; the fact they are off doesn't bode well. Considering the Yankees come to town tomorrow night you'd think I'd be renting that padded room out sooner than I figured.
Turns out I'm fairly calm; maybe it's the fact the Sox have won 2 championships in 4 years. Or it could be I'm comfortable in the knowledge Matsui, Posada, and Damon may miss considerable time for the rest of the year.
Or maybe, just maybe, the past 4 years have cleansed me of that angry, agitation laden feeling I'd always get when we played the Yankees and I just waited for the other shoe to drop.
The MFY's have just become another team on the schedule that we need to beat in order to get to October. My imaginary shrink would call that progress.
Who am I kidding? I'll be wishing carnage and destruction on those pinstriped dinks less than 24 hours from now or my names not the RSD.
I live for this.
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