pink polka dotted sox hat

Back when Caroline was still in my belly a friend scared the bejesus out of us by sending an email about “Cash” someday turning into a Yankee sympathizer. It was terrifying to consider.

(from a post dated August 23, 2006)

What if you do have a boy, and you do live in CT and you do have a RedSox mural on his wall. When he's young he will identify and maybe even grow to love the redsox (let's leave the fact that they are heartbreaking enough as is out of this for the moment) and see them as a wonderful buffer to son-dad bonding time. He gets older and starts school in CT with a bunch of CT/NY friends. He plays at their house in their rooms with their Yankee murals on their walls and the seeds of doubt begin. "who are the yankees?" "why don't I have that mural?" "are they judging me?" "am I wrong" and the doubt begins. All his life he is forced to hide the true feelings within him, fearing the judgment and wrath of others. A part of his soul will close distancing him from those around him he doesn't trust enough with his deepest secret. Girls will throw themselves at him for his dashing good looks and intelligence and he will be afraid to open up, afraid of what they will do when they find out.

do you really want to do to your son?

Cash turned out to be a girl, that Red Sox wall mural is on pause for now, but I daresay that our Caroline has become quite a little Sox fan in her two and half years. We were fortunate enough to attend the Sox/Yanks game on Saturday afternoon with the whole McFam, a semi tradition that is so special. Steve and I had been building it up for weeks, reading the “Hello, Wally” book with her, watching the games at night with Daddy before bedtime. She was a little shy when we started walking up Brookline Ave, but what kid from suburban CT wouldn’t be overwhelmed when you suddenly find yourself walking down the street with hundreds of other people. She clung to me. We eventually opted for an elevator up to our seat level, but wouldn’t you know while we were waiting for the doors to open our girl glanced over, spied the field and exclaimed “RED SOX!!” I think it may have been the proudest moment of Steve’s life.

While we tried to stay cool and had a few pre game cocktails several people took Caroline out to the seats to see the “baseball players.” All it took was those two words and she was holding hands with whomever had offered this special treat, dashing towards to the seats overlooking the field. She was treated to ice cream in a sox batting helmet with sprinkles, though her mother ate most of it. Greg had the sighting of the day as he turned to leave the men’s room and almost ran into Spike Lee. To Steve moments later, “You want to go to the bathroom RIGHT NOW!”

There was some trepidation on my part about how the actual game portion of the day would go for Caroline, not that she has ever given us reason to have any anxiety about taking her anywhere. You just never know, the wind could have been blowing in the wrong direction or the Moon could have been in Jupiter and then, well, all bets are off. She's two. It's all a mystery.
When I tried to take her for a potty break and cool off she was focused on one thing: “go back to red sox!” claiming she could hear “Daddy and Auntie” cheering. “Oh, you hear the fans?” I asked. “No Mommy, no fan, Daddy and Auntie.” She moved between family members, sitting on laps, standing on others, at one point laying across us. She sat still for the most part. She actually watched the game. She clapped. She cheered. She danced with us to "sweet Caroline." She had the best time.

On Sunday she told us all about how she had seen Wally (thankfully she did not, because she nearly freaked at the mere sight of a lifesize blow up of Wally at Twins), how she “had so much fun,” and how she had been to the Red Sox. In fact, all day yesterday was more of the same. Caroline loved every bit of Saturday and as we exited the park she longingly looked back at the field on the grandstand level, like an awestruck 8 year-old boy.

Any thoughts of her someday feeling like her Sox fan status is akin to a scarlet letter are long gone. Our little lady loves the Red Sox.

Here are some of auntie c’s shots of our amazing day watching the Yanks get spanked. We are so lucky!






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