Aside from two Detroit Tiger hats, the only other major league baseball hat I own is a St. Louis Cardinals hat. It was a gift from the in-laws two years ago when a vacation took them through St. Louis. Itâ€™s a nice hat but Iâ€™ve only worn it a handful of times because, well, Iâ€™m a Tiger fan. But after the Tigerâ€™s disappointing, error-filled performance in the World Series this last week, itâ€™s hard to wear any of my Tiger hats in public again. I might just have to jump on the Cardinalâ€™s bandwagon to fit in with the sea of red out there. ~sighs~
Aidan loves having Marathon Girl and I read to him. However, his two year old brain has developed a strange love for poetry. And weâ€™re not talking nursery rhymes. He enjoys major poets and some of their best known works. Poems that Aidan particularly likes having read to him are Robert Frostâ€™s The Road Not Taken, Mary Oliverâ€™s Maybe, Phillip Boothâ€™s First Lesson, Rudyard Kiplingâ€™s If, Alison Funkâ€™s The Moons of Uranus and Stephen Craneâ€™s God Lay Dead in Heaven.
Iâ€™m not complaining. I think itâ€™s wonderful he enjoys these. But he really floored me and Marathon Girl last week when he started repeating most of Edna St.Vincent Millayâ€™s famous poem First Fig for no apparent reason. He going to be a construction worker for Halloween but Iâ€™m wondering if a tweed jacket and bow tie wouldnâ€™t be a better fit. I think a two-year-old poet would scare just about anyone.