The Mascot Problem

Imagine this: you and your eldest son, Sayid, choose to go to the baseball stadium to watch a game. The Los Angeles Dodgers against the Santa Fe Armadillos--a perfect matchup, sure to bring excitement to the last two innings. You and Sayid come prepared with the essentials: a tiny container of sunscreen, an empty water bottle and some trail mix. Before you get to your seat, Sayid politely excuses himself to the Men's room. Now, you're on your own. You sit down and right in front of you, blocking your peripheral view, is a massive armadillo mascot sitting a few rows ahead. Anger and confusion courses through you--why is a giant armadillo at a baseball game? What do armadillos eat? Where is my son? What? 


Sayid does not speak english.
That is exactly what happened to me just a few moments ago. As a child, I always wondered why mascots always had the same expression on their faces. Now, as someone who has a four year old adopted Middle Eastern son of his own I think, "boy, those outfits sure seem large. I wonder what they're thinking about in there."

The point I'm trying to make is that mascots shouldn't be given breaks. The way I see it, mascots are at least as important as the rest of the team. None of this would have happened if the mascot just stayed out in the sun for a few more hours in that costume without a break. What do I tell Sayid? He's just a child from the Emirates I adopted literally minutes before taking him to the game. For goodness sakes, get him away from the armadillo! I'm not sure about their diet but I'd venture to guess that Sayid would be in a lot of trouble if the armadillo spotted him. Let me be very clear: armadillos have no place on (or off) the baseball field. 

Now, to go look for my son. Hopefully I get to him before one of those pesky 'dillos.

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If you see a small Emirati boy at or near Dodger's stadium, please contact me. Thanks. --Nate

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