The Babe

We are hopelessly behind on Thank-You-Notes for the half of the family who celebrated September birthdays chez K&3D. I blame Kindergarten. Kindergarten has worn me out.

But son D got one of his favorite presents ever from my aunts: A Yankees Jersey. He literally danced with joy when he opened it. Danced. I kid you not.

How the son/grandson of a family of die-hard Red Sox fans became obsessed with the Yankees is a bit of a long story.

I blame Babe Ruth. Babe Ruth has a very interesting history. Many, many biographies have been written about Babe Ruth documenting this very interesting history. I know this because I have read every single one of them out loud to my son.

At the beginning, I tried to insert the words "the evil" before every mention of the "New York Yankees" in the many, many books I read. This worked for a few weeks, and it was a bit cute (in a twisted way that only a Red Sox fan will understand) to see my then-four-year old son refer to the team as "the evil New York Yankees" repeatedly.

But eventually, he turned five, and realized that Mommy was a) not reading the real words; and b) a bit jaded.

Finally, he turned six this month and ended up with a full-blown obsession with Babe Ruth. He was thrilled beyond words when he heard that the Yankees won their last game "in the house that Babe built."

We aren't trying to raise little replicas of ourselves, right? It's good when they show their own minds and opinions, right? Life would be boring if our kids only like what we tell them to like. Right???

...at least he hasn't stuck a McCain sign in the lawn. Yet.