The New Normal

With her other half coaching high school football (on a Saturday, in March), Clare decided to spend the afternoon with us watching the White Sox game against the Angels. We took our usual positions, daughter on the couch, father on the exercycle. That made it feel like old times, along with some of the talk. We don’t like how the Sox are hitting, but we are happy fewer and fewer non-roster pitchers are around to blow late-inning leads. Adam Eaton also got the third degree, or at least a lot of Tivo slow-motion replay to see if he’s hitting off his front foot. Sadly, the results proved inconclusive. But there were also reminders about that this isn’t like any other then. Take Satan, the wonder basset (please). She can no longer pounce on her sister the way she likes because Clare is carrying a pup of her own. And I don’t seem to remember us ever discussing maternity clothes during a ballgame before. Oh, well, things change. A new normal is here, and my job is to make it work. I figure, by next summer, the kid will be going back and forth from my lap to his mom’s as we watch our heroes run roughshod over the AL Central. That’s what I’ll work on.