Last Monday I was sitting at home, minding my own business, eating dinner while watching an episode of The Wire with the Beloved Spousal Equivalent, when the Sole Heir called. The conversation, once it was established I wasn’t recording the Orioles game—which is where she called from—went something like this:
The Sole Heir: Do you want a pair of tickets to the Frozen Four this weekend? I think I can get us a couple.
Me: Well, duh. Sure.
The Sole Heir: Okay, I’ll let you know for sure tomorrow.
And so it came to pass that my daughter, who called the BSE and me just last weekend for advice on prom dresses—okay, she really called the BSE; I was dismissed pretty quickly—hooked dear old Dad up with tickets to the NCAA Men’s Ice Hockey National Championships. Two semi-finals on Thursday, and the championship on Saturday.
She’s done a lot of cool stuff, some of which has been reported here. (More of that to come as the deadline for college acceptance approaches on May 1.) None of it has made me happier than her thinking of her Old Man for something like this.
Last night’s doubleheader was as fun as we thought it would be. More on that after Saturday’s game.