It was a boys night out tonight--I took Andres to the Revs/FC Dallas game at Gillette, while Natalia and Celia took advantage of the beautiful weather and took a walk around the neighborhood.
Despite the horrible officiating on the field (2 red cards to the Revs for minor transgressions) we had a great time in the stands. This was our first father-son game, so it felt different than the many other ones we have been to...though mainly because Andres got his own seat.
He also made a new friend in the stands. So while all of the fans around us were cursing at the refs for another blown call, Andres was yukking it up with the kid across the way.
He worked a lot on his clapping skills and was very intrigued by the "music" (his word, not mine) coming from the Fort. We ventured over there at halftime and listened to a guy bang the crap out of a drum for about 3 minutes. Andres seemed both interested and scared at the same time; he wasn't sure he liked the loud noise, but he certainly didn't want to leave right away either.
I was hoping for a late Revs goal, despite them being down to 9 men, but it never materialized...so we departed along with everyone else, tired after a fun night.
A narrative of fatherhood.
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