(Sorry if you were really trying to guess and I just stole your thunder.)
Daughter 2's team is playing in the winners bracket at the Weird Weather Tournament. I'm sure that's not the official name, but since the wind blew at eighty miles an hour from the northeastsouthwesterly-north and today we're wearing jackets and dodging raindrops, it's an appropriate name.
My kid is playing competitive ball by no accident. She has a very outgoing daddy who wants the best for her while she follows her dreams. Yes, softball is her dream. Check out the video of her couch -coaching on my Facebook page.
My other kid is a golfer. She doesn't like to run and really doesn't like working with other people. She gets it from me. Golf is something she's good at, doesn't involve running and is best played alone. It fits. Golf is also her daddy's favorite sport. So if she has to play with someone, her first choice is her daddy.
Seventeen years ago this very weekend, Brian asked me out. I said no. I was like, "Geez! A guy this nice is gonna want babies quick, and I'm only 27. I've got a lot of living still to do."
Not really. I did say no but only because I was going to be out of town. We went out the next weekend. And the next weekend. And the next weekend.
Eventually we had babies. He takes the morning shifts, and I take the late nights.
Not really. He takes whatever shifts need to be taken.
He takes his girls to the ballpark and the golf course. He yells at bad calls and questions course rangers. He yells loudest at their successes and picks them up when they fall, dusts them off and gets them right back where they need to be.
He's our (I include myself on his team) biggest cheerleader--and he looks damn good wearing a mini skirt and shaking Pom-poms.