Phils.

We were hotter than we wanted to be. We spent too much money. The Phillies didn’t win. But it was one of the best family days we’ve had in a long time.

Today we took The Who to his first Phillies game. It was actually his first major league game ever (he has only ever seen the Paw Sox and he only vaguely remembers it.)

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Realizing, this morning, that he didn’t have a Phillies shirt to wear to the game, he begged me to make one for him. What is a t-shirt-making mom good for if not  making on-demand shirts for her kid? Fifteen minutes later, we were good to go.

We were lucky enough to sit in the Hall of Fame club section, which came complete with cushiony seats, an amazing view of the field, and separate air conditioned food stands, bathrooms, and tables. Plus, (sorry, Phils fans) since the team’s not doing amazingly well these days, all the seats around us were empty, which gave us lots of room to hang out. The Who could stand most of the game, looking out over the field and we were all able to put our feet up on the chairs in front of us.

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Bonus: it was sort of like a mini museum inside there. This was an original turnstile from the ballpark where the Phillies (actually, the Philadelphia A’s) played in the early 1900s.

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Double-bonus, the ridiculously clean and spacious bathrooms in this fancy section had floors that looked like grass. Try to pretend you don’t know I was taking photos in the bathroom.

I had packed a bag full of entertainment, expecting The Who to tire of the game eventually, especially because we got there two hours before the first pitch was even thrown.

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We started out with some tailgating. I sat in the car, of course, while m* tossed the football around with The Who.

But, as it turned out, we didn’t need any of it. He declined offers of writing and drawing and playing on the phone because he was actually completely enthralled by the game.

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I was completely enthralled by taking selfies in my wife’s cap.

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The writing and drawing offers kept coming from this little kid, also at her first game. She desperately wanted to hang out with The Who and kept sidling up to him wherever he was. She offered to do a Star Wars math workbook with him at least five times, which he politely refused. She did finally win him over by offering to share her baseball cards with him.

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This must have been a special occasion because my rule generally is that he’s not allowed to eat anything that turns his mouth a different color. (Blue raspberry water ice was the culprit this time.)

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“Don’t they have any *decent* snacks? Like candy or something?” he asked when I offered him popcorn or Cracker Jacks. Ice cream seemed to be a fair enough alternative.

It was a great day. We cheered a few early home runs, double high-fived in the air, and ate ice cream out of a tiny souvenir helmet. If that’s not everything you’d want a kid’s first game to be, I don’t know what is.

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