I happen to live in a hockey family. My parents are both from Montreal and spent their childhoods watching hockey. I somehow managed to marry a Greek boy from California whose passion for the last thirty years has been….you guessed it….hockey. And now my two boys have been bitten by the bug and suddenly know things like stats and players names. So not in my vocabulary.
So when the Kings go to the Stanley Cup finals, it's a big deal around here.
We took the kids to game one:
Mr. P. loved every second of it. Doodle was ready to leave after his second hot dog.
We took my dad to game two:
These two waited in line out front to see if they could shoot a hockey puck into a little hole.
Happy father and daughter:
Happy wife with husband who was watching a very nerve wracking game. He couldn't handle it. And in fact, couldn't speak the next morning from all the yelling he did.
But he enjoyed his victory pose at the end.
The crowds were crazy!
Game three just happened in New York. (Kings won!) And we're eagerly awaiting watching Wednesday night's game, also in New York.
Mr. P. was very excited to finish off his roller hockey season last weekend. He had a bunch of his amazingly supportive friends come and cheer him on! And he was awarded this trophy from his coach, which ended up sticking out of my itty bitty purse all day yesterday, apparently I was trying to redefine the meaning of the word, trophy mom.