GO WHITE SOX!!!!!!

Ahem.

I actually screamed in front of a baseball game last night. And you want to know the best part? My husband wasn�t even home. His enthusiasm for his favorite team has brainwashed me to such an extent that I not only watched a game of my own volition but I yelled at the TV like I cared about the game. Next thing you know, I'll be scratching my crotch and belching out "Take Me Out to the Ball Game."

AJ was in the bathtub when Graffanino missed the ball.

�Whoa! I can�t believe he missed that!� I said to the TV.

�What, Mommy, what?� AJ shouted from the tub.

�The Red Sox missed the ball.�

�Are we winning yet, Mommy?�

�Not yet.�

And a few minutes later, Iguchi socked a home run.

�HOLY FUCKIN� SHIT!� [If this language isn�t clear proof that my body has been possessed by baseball-loving aliens, I don�t know what is.]

�What, Mommy, what?�

�We�re winning now, AJ!�

�That�s not what you said, Mommy.�

�No, it�s not. But the White Sox are winning!�

�Yay!!! I want to watch!�

I carried a dripping boy from the tub to catch the replay, at the conclusion of which he wriggled out of his towel, pumped one fist in the air and screamed�

No, he did not yell �Holy, Fuckin� Shit.� And for that, I was extremely grateful. AJ apparently possesses more refinement than his mother. He left it at, �Go, White Sox!�

�I can�t wait to tell Daddy about this game when he gets home.�

�Me too. This is exciting.�

And it is, too.

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