Yesterday, I agreed to chaperon yet another of The Dormouse's summer camp trips... because I did not learn my lesson from the first time, I guess... or possibly because I just finished three large projects at work and I need to celebrate by NOT being there while I can because another bucket-full of projects are coming down the pike and I may not lift my head up again until November.

We went to, da ta ta ta....

a baseball game.

I grew up loving baseball. I love the culture, the history, the environment, and the game itself. I love baseball movies. I love teams that don't win. I love baseball heroes. And I love going to games. But I realize it's not for everyone. When I moved to the east coast, I was so excited to be where there was a real baseball team (my town didn't have one until I moved away - and then they won the world series) but what I learned was that now we have two and most folks out here couldn't care less. Washingtonians are big basketball or football fans, but baseball's slow moving dog days of summer pace is a bit too slow moving for them.

So when the school asked me if I could help chaperon another trip and it would be to a minor league baseball game, I thought it'd be cool to share this with The Dormouse and teach her about the game and I agreed. Then two teachers and I escorted seven kids to the ballpark.

The only problem was, I think baseball is a little too slow moving for her too.

Yeah... she wasn't the only one with this look on her face. The other two teachers weren't that into the baseball game idea either, but they were content to sit there and let the kids be bored by the whole experience. Which, I suppose I would have done too if one of them wasn't mine and kept climbing all over me and WHINING IN MY EAR.

So I tried to get them into the crowd experience. We yelled when the big board said, "Scream" and we stomped our feet when the big board said, "Make some noise." Or rather, *I* yelled and stomped my feet while my seven young companions looked at me like I was a freakin' nightmare sent from their dreams to bore them to death.

Finally, we ate and I got them interested in a What Color Is Your Tongue after they drank the hummingbird juice that passed for drinks. Guess the flavor:




But that didn't last long.

Finally, we decided to walk over to a little corner of the ballpark that had a moon bounce and a carousel (apparently, our kids weren't the only ones who get bored at the game) only to find that you had to pay for tickets and the teachers from the school had not been given any money for extras. I couldn't stand their long faces any more so I bought them all tickets for the moon bounce and the carousel and suddenly the baseball game became a whole lot more fun.

Perhaps I'll wait before I bring The Caterpillar to her first game.