I got home late Wednesday night to find a house transformed. The stunningly patient and mighty fine SML and the Boy has done so, so much. The house
That said, this past Friday, the Boy and I did make a quick trip down to the Bronx to go to a, dare I say it, Yankees game. Just saying that team's name makes me feel kind of gross. They were playing the Red Sox so it promised to be an interesting game from a fan perspective. They did not disappoint - from booing the Red Sox to tossing the balls that the Red Sox hit into the stands back onto the field, the Yankees fans made it clear whose house the Sox were in.
|Wrigley it is not|
For all its awesomeness, it's not Wrigley Field. It doesn't have the intimate feel that Wrigley does. The fan experience is completely different. Completely. As I gazed out at the field, it was clear that there is no doubt that we've moved on. We are, for sure, no longer in the Midwest. Illinois, much like Elvis, we have left the building. We had lots of great memories made there and now it's time for new ones.
We're creating new and good memories here. Having five hours, because that's how long it takes to get to and from the City, in the car with my son is pretty much priceless. It was a good night of conversation. It was good, really good, to connect further with the Boy. It was made all the better by the satellite radio blasting away in the car we took down to the City. Nothing like the opportunity to show your kid why 80's music rules, and always will.