Jonah and the Dallas Mavs
Today, Rick is my guest writer! I have never asked him to do this, but he graciously agreed to do so. I wanted to share our trip with Jonah but really haven't felt 100% yet. So, thanks for helping me out!!
During the holidays, Nanna and I got to take Jonah to his first Dallas Mavericks game. The story actually started a couple of weeks before. We had told Jonah we were going to take him to the game ahead of time instead of surprising him Christmas. This actually worked out pretty well because every time he came over to the house Nanna had to show him the tickets, and he would ask “ how many sleeps till we go." (It was not how many days but how many sleeps.) The day finally came, and after a stop at McDonalds, we arrived at American Airlines Center. The first fun thing was riding the escalator down in the parking garage. We were walking to the arena, and he was looking at this gigantic building, I can’t imagine what that place looked like to a four year old his first time.
Once inside Nanna and I were going to walk around a little and kill some time. I had told her earlier we would be leaving at half time because by then he would be bored stiff and be all over the place. Jonah didn’t like our walking idea; he wanted to go inside "NOW." Our seats were over the tunnel where the players go in and out. I told Jonah we would go down to the floor as far as they would let us to see the players up close. One of the floor announcers was talking to the crowd and asked, “How may people received tickets for Christmas?" Jonah’s hand shot up before he could finish. (The next thing I knew his hand was going up again with “Hook Em Horns” sign; wonder where he got that?)
The people sitting by us were having a blast. Every time Jonah saw Dirk in person or on the big screen it was “THERE'S DIRK."
We went back to our seats, and because of the people in front, I told him he could sit in my lap. The game started and he watched every thing going on. Every time the Mavericks scored his right arm with fist clinched shot up in the air. I told him about #2 Jason Kidd, #11 JJ, #31 Jet Terry, etc.
About half way through the game, he turned around and asked “Papa is #7 Tim Thomas?” I said "WHO?" I didn’t remember #7 so I looked up at the screen and sure enough. He never left my lap, and his eyes never left the court 'til time to go which was not half time! I’m sure he will never forget that day (and neither will Nanna and I).