Dad Entry #160

We have a new car. Thankfully, Megan is impressed with Honda Accords, even ones at the lowest trim level. I think this is okay, her tolerance for modest vehicles. As long as there's no tolerance for mediocre men. And maybe reliability is high on her list; it's high on mine, and I'm not talking about Honda's anymore. "This car is awesome!" Megan shouted at first glance. "Hop in, Sweetheart," I hollered back. Megan, however, is never one to be totally pleased; eventually she criticized the color. The car is black. Megan likes red. Or pink. But it's all very new and shiny, with a fancy command console, and Bluetooth, so we can dial and talk to Grandma and Papa together in the car as if by magic, and – even more amazing – I can play YouTube videos on my phone and pipe the audio through the car speakers. I asked Megan, "What's your favorite song, Baby?" She answered cheerfully, "Thrift Shop!" I was unfamiliar but I found the video on YouTube and hit play, and the beat was catchy as it ricocheted around the car, and we were bouncin' in our fabric-upholstered seats (the leather trim package costs two or three thousand more) when the F-words started. Geez, I tell ya....

Megan, referring to our condo, said, "Dad, our house here is just so, like, for boys. We need more pictures on the walls or something." She has a point. It doesn't help that we play baseball in the family room. But we don't use real baseballs. And we haven't broken anything yet. And there are things to break; there is art, and vases, and other glass and ceramic thingies of some kind or other. Rare and valuable pieces all. There are potted plants, lamps, ornamental bowls on glass tables, sculptures and candles and, yes, pictures in frames. It's a bunch of stuff Megan apparently doesn't notice or she wouldn't disparage the decor. I'm no Martha Stewart (I'm not a felon, for example) but I'll consult with Megan and maybe we can freshen things up a bit.

Michael laced a bases-loaded single through the right side last night, his first hit of the young season. It drove in two big runs, but more importantly, it gave Michael a potent dose of confidence. He'll relax a little now, and so will I. Yeah, to say I was unaffected would be absurd; I was elated. He's got an average now, baby! But I keep things in check. I know he has a beautiful swing. And a beautiful mind. We are the Palatine Youth Baseball Mustang Yankees. My reign as head coach is underway. So far it's been wonderful and interesting, the latter mostly because my players have parents. I suppose this isn't the place for a treatise on positive psychology, or the Losada ratio, or emphasizing mastery over winning. Did I mention I have a dominant lefty pitcher? The kid is filthy, nobody can touch him! That's baseball talk, if you're uninitiated, and has nothing to do with hygiene.