A Tale of Two Children

 

A Tale of Two Children

Yesterday was the first Sabres game for SonTwo and Me, and all in all things went pretty well. Now, SonTwo is a little squirt, a mere four-years-old, and is really too young to appreciate or understand what is happening at a hockey game. But anyone out there who is the parent of multiple children understands the importance of sibling rivalries, and not even a full day at Chuck E. Cheese would be an acceptable substitute for the equalizing trip to HSBC. The most important thing to SonTwo was that he be allowed to do exactly what his brother did. When I asked him if he wanted to drive down or take the train, his answer was “what did brother do?” Train, I repsonded. “Then let’s take the train.” When we got to the arena, I asked what he would like to eat. “What did brother eat?” A hot dog. “Then I’ll have a hot dog.” I think you get the point. In fact, the only time I could dissuade him from his brother’s course of action was when he wanted cotton candy and I managed to con him into those frozen ice cream dots instead (you try dealing with the sticky mess of cotton candy when you’re trying to watch a Sabres game). The best part of the trip was absolutely watching the wonder on his face as various events occurred. The entry into the arena, stopping by our seats to put our coats down, which offered him the first glimpse of the players on the ice, the first trip to the concession stand, the intro with Sabretooth, etc, etc. You read all the events that a kid enjoys previously, but with SonTwo’s age the sense of wonder was so much more palpable. So while the game may not have resonated as much with the little one the sheer magnitude of the events meant so much more to him. Also Check: Wrapping up the Bills I was both surprised and proud that he made it through the first period without us having to get out of our seats. He’s more free-spirited than his brother, so he would dance and clap to the music. And with a very young crowd on hand, I didn’t try to dissuade him as it seemed to be the thing to do. Despite the fact that we had to take a lap or two around the arena while the game was going on, we managed to not miss any goals, which wasmore luck than skill. I realized as the third period went on that he just wasn’t going to make it through the entire third period and linger the necessary amount of time for the crowd to thin out, so we bolted with about five minutes left in the game (hey, it was a school night). No signature moments when we got home, no great quotes of him proclaiming his love for me and the Sabres. None of that really matters, of course, because what happened last night was important in exposing him to hockey and starting what hopefully is a lifelong love of the game. It’s what Dads do.  

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