Everyday, I witness a choreographed performance of Slow Mo Football. Usually, the team that is playing is different each day.
As I walk in from work, Son #1 sprints down the hallway to the end zone. He dodges tackles, side steps imaginary cornerbacks and runs the homestretch to score a touchdown. The imaginary crowd goes wild as Son #1 spikes the ball and proceeds to get a flag for excessive celebration.
Now it is time for the kickoff. Son #1 kicks it long to the 5 yard line. Now he is the defense and proceeds to tackle my legs as I put down my purse and take off my jacket. I go to hang up my jacket while Son #1 body checks me from every angle.
He shouts. "Ha ha! I tackled you. You're down!"
My response is usually a pronounced. "Oh no!"
His defense stops the other team. It's 3 and out. Good job Son#1!
Now he is on the receiving team. He catches the kick and begins to run for yardage and possibly a touchdown. Oh no! He's tackled at the 40 yard line.
The imaginary team huddles together and then breaks. They line up at the line of scrimmage. I remind him. "Don't throw the ball in the kitchen or my bedroom." "Ok Mama." He replies. The center hikes the ball. The quarterback throws it to his star receiver. Son #1 catches and sprints 50 yards for a touchdown in the final seconds of the game! The imaginary crowd cheers! Son #1 and his team win again!
SUBLIMINAL MESSAGE: GO COWBOYS...WE LOVE YOU ANYWAY!