Twenty-Twooohoooo!!!

I settled in last night to watch the Phils after plans of junk poker and libations WHILE watching the game were rescheduled until tonight.

The wife was out and daughter #1 was at my mothers learning to sew. She has taken a liking to fashion design. Project Runway has been a conduit to this new "career" choice and she is all over the "making her own clothes stuff".

I got the other three off to bed, started a fire, and settled into the couch to watch the Phils game all alone. There was a knock at the door, and for a moment, I thought one of the neighbors took the trek over to watch the game with me, knowing that the wife was gone for the night.

I opened the door and it was my mom and kid. "Why are you knocking?". I asked. "I'm teaching your daughter some manners", responded mom rather curtly. "Yeah Dad, what's wrong with that? You don't even know what manners are!". Mom laughs. "You tell him pumpkin."

*musical interlude... Me, standing in the front hallway, hands on hips, looking straight up in the air hiding an expression that closely resembles something that you would have before you behead a chicken, IF you were a farmer, and actually had to kill your own chicken before you cooked it.

"Whats your problem?" Asks Mom. "ME? Oh nothing. I can tell your education on MANNERS is going a long way with MY daughter."

Daughter giggles and walks into the living room, leaving a trail of a coat, shoes, backpack, and a bag of half eaten cinnamon rice cakes, on the floor.

Mother rolls her eyes and goes home. "Oh cool! a fire!", I hear eminate from the living room. "Dad, can I stay up a little bit? I want to watch the Phillies with you!"

Music to my ears. Really. This makes me super happy. One of my offspring, who happens to only be about 10, and has never really shown an interest in baseball, wants to watch the first game of the World Series with her father. Me. GOLD!

I'm sitting on the couch, and she is laying next to me, as I think to myself, "She is really digging this."

The game is about to start and she is really excited. They have introduced the players, and the first pitch is being served up. Like clock work, the boy wakes up and is jawing upstairs. "Daaaad! You gotta go get him." I tell her I will give her a hundred bucks to sort him out. "You know he just lost his binky." She looks at me like I'm a horrible parent. I tell her to give me a full report when I get back.

The boys issue is the fact that "spikes" is missing. A little stuffed dinosaur the size of a softball and its gone. 5 minutes to relocate in the folds of his toddler bed, and I'm headed back to the couch.

As I turn the corner, the baseball game is not on the TV. It's tuned into some animated trainwreck. She sees me and struggles to find the remote. "What the Hell C!?!". "It was a commercial Dad, I swear to god!"

I strangle the remote and almost crush the numbers as I pound in the channel. Utley is rounding the bases and the score shows 2-0. I look at her, and she is looking at me, with her shoulders shrugged and a look of innocence not seen since they accused OJ of butchering Nicole.

I stare at her longer and harder, reaching for my phone to text "BOOOOOOM" to Al, and she says, "Honestly Dad, I thought it was going to a commercial."

"Listen you, fibbing is not earning you points. We are watching the game, commercials and all. If you can't deal with that, go to bed now."

"Man dad, you really need to work on your manners."

"You know what... go to bed now. It's over."

"BUT, BUT, BUT, WHA???"

"Go"

"What a rip off. Grandmom was right about you." She jumps off the couch, and stomps up the stairs to her bedroom.

Grandmom gets a call this morning.