Me. I made the elder boy cry tonight. Over baseball.
In my defense, he was extraordinarily tired. Since I live in Metro NY, I only get to watch the Phillies when they play the Mets. They were on MSG (Madison Square Garden) Network before bedtime and I wanted to watch an inning before bathtime. When we finally ironed out that the New York team was not the Yankees, even though their uniforms were grey and said "New York" on them, he said he thought he might like the Mets. I proceeded to inform my son (partly kidding) that he can be a fan of any team in MLB but three: The Red Sox, the Mets, and the Braves. He said he thought he'd like the Mets anyway. I told him no (I am responsible for his immortal soul!). My mother and I tried to get him to think about the Yankees and his favorite player, Derek Jeter. No success. A third time, the poor boy insisted he liked the Mets. I told him he couldn't.
The lower lip quivered and the waterworks began. I was mortified. I scooped him into my lap. I tried to tell him I was only kidding. Mommy was trying to be funny. "IT"S NOT FUNNY MOMMY!!!!!" he screamed into my face. I'm sorry, I said. I promise that I will love you, even if you decide that your favorite team is the Mets. After I reassured him of my love a few more times, he asked me to please change the channel. I asked him if wanted to watch the Yankees game instead. He said yes. We watched one batter and he asked to change the channel. We wound up watching "Lingo" on the Game Show Network for 10 minutes until bathtime.
He went to bath time happier. Chuck Woollery is a very soothing person.
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