The season that the guys in our family look forward to all year has finally arrived. They aren’t kidding when they call this March Madness.
Since I like to select teams that I want to be able to root for, I cross a number of teams off immediately. Kentucky, I just don’t like the coach. If the politics of the state are so crazy, I don’t choose teams from there, either. (I think my Texas blogger friend there understands.)
This year, our youngest daughter didn’t have the time to spend on her selections, so she has one of those automatic quick picks: her teams are the ones that are favored in every race. Another family member has a ballot with all the historic favorite teams.
Of course we have the “experts,” the guys who watch basketball all year, read the sports pages religiously, and mark their selections with the confidence of their own superior knowledge.
But the ballot that is my favorite is the one completed by our youngest grandchild, little Miss NotQuite2. Her brothers helped her, but she made her own picks, using a combination of methods. Whenever possible, her brothers imitated the sounds that teams’ mascots make and she chose her favorites. The Oregon Ducks, for instance, were a shoo-in. When mascot mime wasn’t possible, she’d touch one on the screen, with much encouragement from her brothers.
So how is all that working out? Last night, while the superfans spent the night near the bottom, w-a-a-a-y up at the top, all by herself, was Little Miss NotQuite2.
Her mommy recorded it in her baby book.