That Red Sox Hat

If you know Blu, you know her beloved Red Sox as her constant companion. That girl never goes anywhere willingly without that precious hat, and if she does, it's with a major attitude and shade towards the Mom who instructed her to leave it home. You know, she couldn't wear it for my brother's wedding or into the Kennedy Center for a recent performance by the National Symphony Orchestra. Gah. What a mean mother that poor child has...

But today, a Facebook memory from a year ago popped up and reminded me of a silly story involving that prized hat and it got me thinking that it would be fun to not just share the story, but also the history behind it. You see, I'm married to a Mainer. A die-hard Boston sports teams fan through and through. So when I met, fell in love with, married and decided to have babies with this man, there was never a question who those babies would root for. My New Yorker status be damned, these kids would love all sports teams New England. And I loved my man so much that I went along with it. After all, he's impossibly handsome and ridiculously charming, so it was an easy win-over, for sure.

As a Mainer, Handsome Pants has always been sure to show us the finer points of New England living, and that's not limited to sports. He shares alllll the seafood, brings us to the neatest lighthouses, enthusiastically rents the swankiest of beach houses (or the cushiest of Hilton properties because he's married to a snob) and shows us every tourist trap along the way, from boardwalks, to dive lobster shacks, to run-down amusement parks aplenty. It's all fun and it's all cherished because we're making incredible memories. Every summer for the past six years, we've made our annual pilgrimage to Maine and we've had the very best times there.

Back in 2014, while on our first family trip to Maine, Handsome Pants was fresh off of an Afghanistan deployment and he was determined to give us the best Maine vacation. We rented a beautiful beach house with family and friends and spent a week just soaking it all in. While strolling the Old Orchard Beach pier one evening, he got the idea to buy our kiddos their first official 'big kid' Red Sox hats and to no one's surprise, they chose the ones that matched his. The picture on the right shows that ceremonial 'first wearing' and for Blu, it's seldom left her head since. The remaining pictures are just from the last few months. See? Always there. Here we are, 5.5 years later, and she skipped off to the school bus this morning with it resting safely on her blonde head, as usual. You can't have Blu without the Red Sox hat, so with all that backstory, this little anecdotal retelling of just another morning in our household should be extra funny to you, my dear reader. So, here it goes...

From 12/13/18: Blu was searching high and low for her coveted Red Sox hat this morning. She was spouting things like, ‘I can’t go to school without it’ and ‘Until I find it, you’re all suspects’.

I knew this situation needed my patented Lauren humor, inherited squarely and justly from my father. I halted her search by saying the words she’ll surely never let me live down. I said, ‘Relax, it will turnip.’ And I was met with a blank stare. So I added, ‘You know, turnip. It was a play on words. I said turnip instead of turn up. It’s funny, right? Why aren’t you laughing?’ Babbling is just one of my many awkward traits...

Blu tried her damnedest not to laugh. She even tried to tell me I wasn’t funny. But the twinkle in her eyes and the scrunching of her nose gave her away and she succumbed to the deepest belly laugh. And I laughed, too. Distracted momentarily from the Red Sox hat debacle, I was able to plunk a Hello Kitty beanie on her head and usher her out the door to the bus stop.

But we all know what I’m doing today. I’m searching for an elusive hat. Here’s hoping it will turnip...

I'm pleased to say it did turnip after some exhaustive searching. Here's a photo that I sent HP for the smug evidence when I found the hat wedged between two jackets in the back of the coat closet. I've never been one to have a silent victory...