Fathers, Sons, and Baseball - Cincinnati Reds Memories

I know the Big Red Machine did not win every game they played, but as a kid, it sure seemed like they did.  Even when they were trailing in the late innings, I always believed they would pull out the win.  And more often than not, they did.

My first Reds television memory was the 1970 World Series.  Brooks Robinson’s superb fielding for the Baltimore Orioles still frustrates the eight-year-old boy in me. 

Father of 10 Turns Bath Time Into A Career

I was sitting recently on the side of the bathtub, studying my knees. Were those calluses? Before long, the answer dawned on me: The hardened spots had resulted from kneeling near the tub while bathing my children.

Early in our marriage, my wife, Lisa, and I tacitly agreed that I would be responsible for baths. Through the years, the chore became another task I do with little introspection. I still don’t tend to nearly half the work at home, even when I’m there, so I’m not complaining.

The calluses did make me wonder, though, how many baths I might give in my “career” as a father. (I’m a baseball fan, so statistics intrigue me.)

I bathe the kids about every other day (with Lisa pinch-hitting for me when I am on the road). Conservatively