“Hi.” Monroe waves to the guy selling beer.
“Can you tell her to stop saying hi to everyone?” Lake snipes.
“What do you want me to do? It’s National Say Hi Day.” I roll my eyes.
This is so much worse than National High Five Day.
“I don’t know, but she’s drawing attention to us.” She looks around at a bunch of people who probably think Monroe is a cute little girl wearing a Hayes Carlisle jersey.
A group of fans wearing Milwaukee jerseys walks by.
“No hi for you,” Monroe says. A group of Colts fans walks by next. “Hi.”
Lake growls, and her hands clench into fists.
“Monroe, sweetie, is there a maximum number of people you can say hi to today?” I ask.
She stops, and her forehead scrunches.
“Never mind. Let’s just get to our seats.” I turn to Lake. “And then she’ll already have said hi to everyone around us, and we’ll be done for a while.”
We’re at the top of the stairs in our section when Lincoln sees Easton and Decker come out of the dugout and bolts toward the field. “Easton!”
“Oh boy, okay, let’s get going.” I scramble to get us down the stairs, but Monroe is taking one at a time, stopping and doing the Miss America wave while she says hi to every row of fans.
I urge Monroe forward with my hand on her back. I’m carrying a bag full of activities in case she gets bored, along with my purse. My shoulders will be sore by the end of the day.
“Hi. Hi. Hi. Hi.” Monroe says it to everyone we pass.
Lake huffs. “We look so stupid, all wearing his jersey.”
I turn to look at her, while making sure Monroe doesn’t trip and fall down the stairs since she’s so hell-bent on saying hello to every person in this damn stadium. “We’re supporting him. Just like he supports us.”
Easton comes over to the railing, and I catch a few people getting up to join Lincoln there.
Monroe sees Decker. “Hi, Decker!” She lifts her hand and runs down the steps before I can grab her. “It’s National Say Hi Day today!”
She gets swallowed up in the group of people wanting to talk to the two players.
I rush down the stairs. “I’m sorry, I just need…” I slide my hand between a group of kids, getting a hold of Monroe. “She’s mine.”
I guide her out, but she continues saying hi to everyone who’s ready to trample her to get an autograph. I lift her, and she swings her legs around my middle.
“Sorry, Hayes is in the bullpen.” Decker points in that direction, but I can’t see him.
The new manager is a guy with the last name Ripley. He was an assistant in Seattle, so Hayes has been nervous the entire week, but he said the guy doesn’t seem to be holding anything against him.
“That’s okay.” I reach for Lincoln, tugging on his arm. “You guys go get ready for the game. Good luck.”
Lincoln doesn’t come willingly, continuing to talk to them the entire time I pull him back to me.
Once I have both kids, I take a breath and see Lake sitting in our seats, her feet propped up on the empty seat in front of her, phone in her hand.
“Let’s get to our seats.” I hold on to Lincoln and keep Monroe in my arms.
“Hi,” Monroe says to a couple behind us. “Hi.” She waves to the next group of people.
They all smile and say it back, but I swear I never want to hear the word hi again in my life.
