So, my two kids have started watching a little hockey with me before bed. The two year old can only pay attention to so much, so she always asks where the goalie is and pretends to be a goalie when we play floor hockey and claims to be a goalie at irregular intervals throughout the day. Specifically, she has decided that she is Linus Ullmark, when she’s not demanding extemporaneous stories about her adventures with Linus Ullmark and Jeremy Swayman, both of whom we must call by their first and last names at all times.
On Mother’s Day, she woke up from her nap and I told her that the Bruins won. She immediately started yelling about Linus Ullmark. So, when I told her that Jeremy Swayman had been in net, she immediately got a horrible, sad, chin quivering face. She has lots of feelings when people are denied things—even things that they don’t want, like food they don’t eat. It’s all very unfair in her mind.
Being the resourceful bullshit artist I am, I quickly explained that Linus Ullmark and Jeremy Swayman are such good friends that they give each other enormous, silly hugs after each win and asked if she wanted to see a replay of the hug. So, we came downstairs and fast forwarded to the post-win hug and she was utterly transported with joy. The six year old, much more emotionally understated as she is, responded with an “Awwwww, I like it.”
There have been dozens of two-year old shouts of “GOALIE HUG!” over the past couple of days (she has decided that Mommy is Jeremy Swayman and Daddy is Tuukka Rask, and fuck if I don’t wish I were retired). Her balance and gross motor skills leave a little to be desired—the bow is more often a crouch—but she is utterly elated.
Beat the ‘Canes. Bring the hugs.