He's a bit of a football fan. He plays football every chance he can get. He draws football plays in notebooks at school. He's reads novels about football players. He watches every game he can. So, as you can imagine, Superbowl Sunday was a big day around here.
I was feeling pretty crummy all day and spent most of the day in bed, but I rallied enough to sit upright in front of the tv with the rest of the family for the big game. One and I both wanted the Saints to win, though we also had reasons to want the Colts to win. Basically, we just wanted a good, fun game to watch, and we got it.
Three needed to go to sleep, so away I took him at the end of the game. I then collapsed into my bed. One came in, to once again share how wonderful it was that the Saints won. I was sort of drifting in and out of sleep as he excitedly chattered on. He mentioned that the QB of the Saints held up his baby son in celebration at the end of the game, and how sweet that was. I smiled and asked, "are you going to do that when you win the superbowl?" He responded, "Oh, I don't know if I'm going to have a son."
I kissed him and sent him off to bed. I fell back asleep, charmed by his youthful confidence that the most unknown part of that question was not whether he would be an NFL player that would be on a team that would win the superbowl, but that he may not have a baby one day. I have thought of that exchange several times since Sunday, and it makes me smile.
No comments:
Post a Comment