by Allyson Haas
But I digress.
The REAL meaning behind today’s post was C’s first ever baseball game or, as he prefers to call it, the “ball show." I'm happy to report that Caleb had a great time, though it was rather awkward when, after proudly telling his swim instructor what he did the night before, I had to explain that no, I did not take Caleb to a Porn show.
The Haasbund’s business partner was privy to the coveted Lexus Dugout seats and luckily for us, he invited us along. The experience was amazing. Free food, free drinks, free ice cream (though, sadly, not yet of my own making) and seats right. Behind. The. Catcher. The only way to sit closer is to actually be on the team’s roster. Here's hoping C isn't completely ruined for future games in the seats we can afford, more commonly known as the nosebleeds.
Just in case America's favorite pastime and corporate boxes aren't exciting enough for you, this outing marked the first time Caleb properly identified and used the toilet outside of our home. Yes my fine friends, it is official, C is toilet trained. He had nary an accident. Which, to be fair, could very well have been because we used this new skill of his no less than nine times over the course of five innings which gave him plenty of opportunity to show off his new talent. In retrospect, I think maybe the repeated trips to the loo were simply a ruse to walk past (and eat more of) the free desserts that were on display in the lounge. Had I known how effective the dessert buffet would've been in getting my son to use the potty, I would've tried that at home (it may be the only technique I didn't attempt). Whatever the reason, my son's successful use of a public bathroom, coupled with a particularly enthusiastic rendition of Take Me Out to the Ballgame during the seventh inning stretch, has sold me on the Dodgers. I know I may have to revoke my New Yorker card just for writing that sentence, but much to my chagrin it looks like after 10 years in LA, the Dodgers are now officially the home team for which we root root root.
I blame it on that dessert buffet - I'm powerless against chocolate caramel brownie cake.