As I type, I'm doing something I vowed I would never do in the B.C. (Before Children) days.
I'm allowing my kids to stay up late - on a school night, no less! - for a baseball game. Truth be told, they have a field trip tomorrow to a local farm so they have a fairly easy school day anyway. But as was the case on Monday evening, it's Mommy who proposed this idea and it's Mommy who is camped out in the living room with the kids sprawled out on the floor, wrapped in blankets and quilts (red ones, of course)
Boo fell asleep during the Obama infomercial. (Which I thought was flawless and incredibly well-done. By the end, when Obama was saying "everybody here has a story about a grandparent working in a factory ... " I was practically near tears thinking of my own grandparents and their stories, just as Obama had hoped I would be.) Betty is still awake, but fighting as hard as the Phightin' Phils to stay that way. She really wants to see the Phillies win the World Series.
And I'm letting her, because this is the stuff of childhood memories. This is the stuff they'll remember, this moment of camping out in the family room, together on the threshold of history, both in baseball and in America.