baby race

Next week at the UR basketball game is our favorite, favorite half-time entertainment show: the baby race. Now the halftime shows at these games run the gamut from sort of useless and boring (dancers) to wow I wouldn't have imagined that (dogs in hurdle races) to touching and awesome (young gymnasts flying all over). But no single halftime event keeps people in their seats more than the baby race.

It's a simple concept--one parent takes the baby to the baseline under one basket, and the other one goes to half court. First baby to span those 47 feet wins--and wins big. It's worth a $500 grocery gift certificate at one of the nice snobby grocery stores. 

We've watched the race for three years now, and it's hilarious. A little like a turtle race: some of the babies never get far off the starting line, others head straight for the other side, and still others get part of the way across and turn around to go back to the baseline. Some could use a corral to help them out. Then, of course, there's the baby who realizes she's sitting on a gym floor with music blaring and thousands of people looking at her and her parents yelling at her and she just melts into tears. That's not as funny, though it always happens. Of course, watching desperate coach/parents is half the fun. It's five hundred bucks, right?

So we'll be entering PC in the race. The only hitch? Well, um,  he doesn't crawl yet. He scoots a little, he has full 360-degree turn-ability when he's on his stomach, and he can walk along a couch or play pen while holding on. But he doesn't crawl, and he may not. Still, who can resist the baby race? I figure he loves his mom so much that if I take him to the starting line, he might just muster his first crawl out of sheer desire to reach her. 

Though early efforts were unsuccessful, we still have about ten days to train him. Buckle up, PC! Things are getting serious.