A week or two ago, while I was flipping channels in search of a baseball score, AJ and I caught sight of Gene Wilder in a purple coat and top hat and stopped to watch a few minutes of Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. We had to turn off the television because it was bedtime, but AJ kept asking about it for days afterwards. A few days later I discovered an old battered paperback, my childhood copy of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory on one of our bookshelves. AJ and I started reading it that very night. He was riveted from the start, the kind of riveted that has things falling out of his hands, forgotten, his mouth hanging open as he slowly and unconsciously inched forward to be closer to the book.

We finished the book this morning, reading nearly the entire second half of it in the last 24 hours because AJ could not get enough. Tuesday I tracked down a copy of the movie at the library and this afternoon we watched it. As soon as it started, I had an incredible flashback to the first time I saw this film, in a movie theater when I was about AJ�s age. It was absolute magic. It still is. It�s also probably the most faithful (without being literal) adaptation of a book for the screen that I recall seeing. As an adult, I�m also struck by its resemblance to the classic genre of morality tale. It�s rather Victorian, in a twisted sort of way � Roald Dahl is never too saccharine. The brothers Grimm were clearly a major influence; he gets the perfect blend of enchantment and horror and humor and a just enough safety. I�m glad to be reacquainted to both the book and the film.

But the big news is AJ�s first trip to see the White Sox play. He was vibrating between the pinnacle of excitement and absolute dumbfoundedness. I suspect he�ll remember yesterday for a long time. Not only did it not rain, but it didn�t even cool off. The White Sox won. And although we weren�t able to stay for the end of the 11 inning game, we did stay long enough to see our boy Joe Crede hit a grand slam. It was exciting even for me. The fireworks afterwards weren�t bad either, although AJ kept his hands over his ears until they stopped.

I haven�t been to Comiskey in a few years (probably since it was still called Comiskey). It�s a totally different experience since the series. I�d become used to surly or at the very least disinterested fans. Now everyone was singing along and most people were actually paying attention to the game. Although I�m a baseball fan by association rather than by any kind of natural inclination, I felt more wound up in the game myself after going through the hair-raising series last year [I always want to write that as �hare-raising� -- clearly I�ve seen one too many Bugs Bunny cartoons.].
There is a training area for kids at the field. We arrived a little early, so we took AJ over to try his hand in the batting cages:

And then he tried throwing the ball at a series of catchers sliding along a track like arcade ducks. Here is where the throwing coach is telling him his turn is up. Poor AJ:

Then he practiced his fielding as shortstop on a tiny ballfield:

But his favorite area was where he could practice his base running. They had a life-sized cut-out of Scott Posednik (AJ�s favorite player � �Scottie Pods,� as AJ calls him, is the name on the back of AJ�s T-shirt). He had to stand on home plate and wait for the sound of the bat and then try to race the effigy of Scottie Pods to first base, where a giant padded catcher�s mitt was waiting to catch those who ran too far. AJ is absolutely determined to be the fastest kid. He beat Scottie Pods all but once (when the ersatz Podsednik was on its fastest setting), and even then he was close. As he raced to catch him that time, I overheard the 9-year-old boy standing next to me say under his breath, �Man, is he fast!� The praise of a 9-year-old Little Leaguer means as much to AJ as just about anything. He was floating on air after the conversation was duly reported. Here is a picture of AJ�s first of many cracks at base running. The blur on the right is the cardboard Podsednik. The blur on the left is AJ:

We did actually watch the game. AJ was taken with the World Series Banners:

AJ left the game a very tired and happy boy. We stopped to take his picture on the way out. Because, you know, we hadn�t taken enough pictures already:

On the way out, AJ�s dad bought him a White Sox batting helmet as a souvenir. He wouldn�t put it down. After stopping at his grandmother�s to change him into his PJs, he put the helmet on for the car-ride home and fell asleep a few seconds after we pulled out of the driveway:

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