When does digging potatoes go from being a chore to a score? When you involve a 3 year old, of course. Hailey came for her weekly visit this past Thursday and I told her we were going to the neglected garden to dig the potatoes. This statement was met with a bit of a blank stare and a bit of reluctance since the swing seemed like a better choice to her. Once we got to the forgotten row of potatoes which did grow despite mid-season neglect I pointed out to Hailey that we had to look for the now shriveled remnants of the vines among the nice green weeds. In went the fork, over went the soil, down went Hailey to her knees. She really loves to have soil under her nails. By the time I reached the third hill of potatoes and turned the soil I heard her shout 'Score' as the tubers tumbled forth. Hearing a 3 year old cheer at the sight of potatoes just made me laugh right out loud. Who taught her 'score' and in what context? Certainly not finding potato treasures but that is perfectly in keeping with my thoughts on the subject. Sports hold little allure for me and other than my kid's forays into a bit of high school competition I have rarely cheered for a team. I am a rarity in a family of siblings whose lives revolve around the successes of the Boston Red Sox and the Patriots. I am content to hear the cheers of a 3 year old as the meager bounty of the potato patch unfolds. We all pick our passions. Or maybe they pick us. Have you dug your potatoes yet?