My little traitors

I carried them for nine months. Nine months during which I was in and out of the hospital due to such severe morning sickness that I couldn't stay hydrated without i.v. fluids. With one of them, I wore a subcutaneous pump because I couldn't survive without the medication it delivered continuously through a needle in my leg. Then there was the whole labor and delivery thing.

Not only that. I've bathed them, fed them, and wiped their little rear ends more times than I could possibly count.

I arranged for a weekend trip to Pittsburgh during which they would miss a day of school, see dinosaur bones at the Carnegie museum, and go to a Braves vs. Pirates game.

How do they repay me?

By rooting for the Pirates.

It's just the name. Not swayed by my explanation that braves were Indian warriors, they just think the Pirates have a cooler name.

So, if you hear me telling my kids that Atlanta's baseball team's real name is the Atlanta Man-Eating Savage Velociraptors of Death Braves, you'll know why.

Despite the betrayal, a good time was had by all, though Josh is always embarrassed to have his picture taken in public: