It’s Sunday evening, dinner is busy cooking, the clothes are mostly washed, two of the children are watching TV in their rooms after a day on the rugby fields, and the eldest is at a friend’s house after lying to my face this morning. Not happy with her at all, but trying not to react too badly. Let’s just say her choice of friends is very, very poor, but that there’s very little we can do about it. We will inevitably find outselves picking the pieces up in a few weeks once again.
As mentioned, we spent much of the day at a distant rugby club, watching our younger daughters play. Miss 12 complained of feeling ill all morning, was arm-twisted into playing, and then lasted all of ten minutes before putting on every piece of clothing we took with us, and retreating to the club house.
Miss 14’s team had a barnstormer of a game – perhaps the best I have ever seen them play. If not for some very questionable refereeing decisions the final score could have been absolutely enormous. As it was she left the field grinning, laughing, and wouldn’t shut up all the way home as we tried to listen to the England Italy rugby match on the radio.
This evening I’m contemplating making a trip to the shop later to buy supplies after dinner – supplies for a late night Superbowl TV marathon. It won’t even start here until something like 1am, and I have to be at work in the morning. It will be a good distraction though, given that I’m kind of dreading work this week. I’m thinking a giant bag of peanut M&Ms, a giant bag of crisps, and a bottle of wine should set me up perfectly.
I don’t think our children have ever watched American Football – and it might take quite some explaining to them.
“That’s right – they wear crash helmets, and run into each other on purpose, even though they could pass it like in Rugby. They can also substitute the entire team as often as they like.”
“So why don’t they pass like Rugby instead of running straight into each other like idiots?”
“I have absolutely no idea.”