Eldest has a friend who moved down to Carmel two years ago. Although they interact on Xbox Live often enough, they haven't actually seen each other since Christmas, when his mom graciously invited our family up to their Tahoe house for a few days. So when they called to say they were going to an Oakland A's game Sunday and why don't we meet there, I figured he'd be happy.
Seeing as I'm so incompetent, of course I was wrong. Not only was Eldest not pleased with having to go to a baseball game, but the two younger kids were even more opposed to the outing, plotting ways to weasel out of it and devising scenarios to ensure they could do anything but see the most boring game in the universe.
I am clearly raising un-Americans. Here is my recipe.
Take the influence of a British father who is an avid soccer fanatic.
Sprinkle in five years of playing youth baseball for Eldest and two years for Youngest.
Add in the fast-pace of youth soccer and youth basketball for comparison to the absolute snail's pace of baseball.
Include only watching professional soccer on TV.
I was originally of the mind that we should all suffer together, but we have since taken pity on Daughter, and she's going to hang with her BFF. I expect much pleading from Youngest to be able to hang there as well, particularly as we flamed out on finding a friend of his to come in Daughter's stead.
As for me, I'm anticipating at least getting some decent garlic fries.