Them Lovable Losers

Call me Mother of the Year.

And now for something completely different!

October is one of my favorite months, strictly because I can watch football and baseball, sometimes on the same night. While Boomer and I are in firm agreement on which football team to root for (all about the Bears, kids, and Peanut will be brainwashed), baseball is another matter entirely.

I remain convinced that I'm still allowed in family gatherings because of my husband and son. Let me explain. Not that my family doesn't love me to distraction, but, well, they're Cubs fans. All of them. And I am not. So from April to October things tend to be a wee bit tense. To his eternal credit, Boomer refrains from my family's snarkfest because the Cubs tend to be less than trustworthy.

Now, however, I'm being ganged up on. My team stank so badly I'm still smelling it, my kid yells "Go Cubs!!" (and thank you Grampa Sarge) every time a sporting event comes on, and I figured it was time to cower. Until tonight.

Bottom of the sixth, game three, Cubs vs. Dodgers in L.A. And the Cubs are losing. Again.

Hee hee hee.

I'm fairly ignorant about the Cubbies, but I was under the impression (given to me by, oh, EVERYONE AROUND ME) that the Cubs had the best record in the National League. Not the division, the League. And so far, they're imploding. Reminds me of a line from the Steve Goodman classic "A Dying Cub Fan's Last Lament": "the doormat of the National League".

Granted, they could pull this off. But I doubt it. Maybe there's still time to show Peanut the error of his ways. After all, he's just repeating what he's hearing. Which reminds me to watch my mouth around him.

Or maybe I should just duck and cover and wait for the season to end. After all, there's always football. Now there's a comforting thought.

Call me Mother of the Year.