‘Daddy daddy daddy!! Look at my hat!!’ The three year old yelled from across the house. He had been at a party and the person was giving out prizes for some of the simple children’s games, one being a baseball cap with his ‘most favouritest’ sports team that he would watch from the living room in the house with Luke, chilling and cheering from the sofa, at every win or special announcement in favour of their team. It had all started with you suggesting the 3pm slot on a saturday for special daddy baby bonding time just under three years ago, a bottle seemingly tiny in Luke’s hands, and baby boy, even smaller in his arms with the sports channel on in the background in an attempt to create a familial environment.
Eventually Luke would become less infatuated with the tiny being in his arms, and began to take a slight interest in what was going on in the stadium on the screen. When baby could hold his own bottle, and Luke would start talking to him about the game - ‘i think they’re using the wrong tactics. 31 should be further upfield, right?’ - he would only to be met with a smile or a splutter of baby milk all over the carpet.
It was a family tradition between the two now, every saturday at 3pm to watch their team’s game. Luke would now sport their team’s colours, or match his son with their own replica’s of the white and red striped shirts they loved so dearly - ‘Daddy we match! And we match the team!’. And now his little champ, with his new hat and enthusiastic appreciation for the game Luke had grown into with him, as he had grown up, looked as pleased as punch as he ran into Luke’s arms to be raised to higher heights above Daddy’s shoulders.
With his hat turned round on his head and a ‘Don’t be silly Daddy!’, Luke would face his excitable little muffin as his hair curled out from under his cap and remember to wear his own more often, as he knew deep down that his boy wanted to be ‘just like daddy’. He was an absolute gem of a child, as bright as the sun that shone through his nursery room and as pure as the white cream walls which were covered in sticky finger marks; ‘an extreme expression of creativity’, as Luke had called it.
‘Hey! That’s the coolest hat I think i’ve ever SEEN!’ He would yell back before placing him on the kitchen counter and reaching into his back pocket. ‘Maybe you should wear it when we go to the big game next week!’
As Luke pulled two tickets out from behind him, a shiny silver glint to them, and inscribed with their favourite team’s name, little man’s big blue eyes grew to the size of saucers, clapping his hands together in glee.
‘We’re going to a game buddy!! You and me could be on the big screen!’
‘And i can wear my hat! And all my shirts! And you’ll be there daddy so i can go on your shoulders!’
‘You sure can Junior, and we can get our favourite corn dogs!’ Luke grinned along with his son, matching his dimple and his toothy grin as a chubby hand took one of the tickets with great excitement as though it held the promise of a whole exciting new world.
Luke hoped that the same excitement would appear on his face when he would be told at the game about how the next big goal on his Santa List last year would also finally come true.
Maybe one day he could take both of his boys to a big game, all being well in little man’s reaction to a new addition to the house, and another buddy to sit of the sofa and keep up tradition.
