Jaxon experienced his first Jazz game last night. An experience that he has already filtered...only keeping the good, happy memories alive and flushing all the scary ones away.
Jaxon is one that gets startled easily. When we watch Jazz games from the comfort of our home, Jaxon often gets scared from Brian's reactions to amazing plays or bad calls. I was worried how our little boy would handle THOUSANDS of fans as excited as his dad.
When we first arrived at The-Place-Formerly-Called-The Delta Center, Jaxon was very excited to see the Jazz game. Uncle Adam let him play with his Jazz megaphone and he had a great time yelling "Hey!" to everyone that was in ear shot as we waited to enter the arena. Prior to the starting of the game we were all separated. Miscommunication between genders....a common occurrence...no one to blame. Brian was parking the car, Jaxon and Adam went to find a Jazz jersey and Becky and I were just waiting.
When the Jazz were introduced Jaxon was alone with Adam waiting for the rest of us to get to our seats. Mind you, this is the Play-offs. Merely announcing the players names will not do. This has to be big...and big it was. The team was introduced with fireworks. Big, explosive fireworks. "Ka BOOM" fireworks. (Brian heard them from the other side of the street!) Jaxon was hysterical! He cried for about 10 minutes. The game was loud. The fans were loud. The music was loud. Jaxon buried his face in my neck. In fact, I don't think Jaxon watched more than 5 minutes of the first half. He wasn't a very good Jazz fan.
The second half was less traumatic. He watched a little bit. Clapped his hands with the crowd. There was even a soft whisper of "Go Jazz!" occasionally. As soon as the game was over he forgot all about being scared. Now he will tell you about the Jazz Bear and how he "fell down the stairs, svoooosh! on the big T.V."
Memories are wonderful things. Keep the good. Block the bad. Jaxon will tell you that he loved the Jazz game, though I don't think it was the game that he enjoyed. It's his memory... who am I to tell him differently?
No comments:
Post a Comment