After swearing all week long that I had no interest in watching a single, solitary second of this year’s Testosterone Bowl, I found myself uninspired enough on this particular Sunday afternoon to do anything else, and therefore resigned myself to glueing butt to couch to watch the antics of two teams worth of over-grown boys in tight pants.
No matter how hard one does, or does not try to concentrate on a sporting event on the boob tube, watching with kids in tow makes it an entirely different experience. So, here’s what Super Bowl Sunday looked like in the Hull household yesterday afternoon:
The festivities started out with five-year-old Ellie asking Andrew, “Daddy, what kind of ball is this that we’re watching?”
After Andrew had explained the game to be football (and perhaps gave a thirty second run down of the object of the game) and the kids got into the rhythm of the athletic action interspersed with the sometimes comical but mostly idiotic commercials, the action in our living room ramped up.
Delighted by the Doritos commercial in which an employee, hoping for a promotion by means of throwing a magic crystal ball, throws the ball down the hall–nailing his boss in the groin, the kids persisted in levity while laughing at the men with long hair dos sticking out of their helmets.
Our collective five person attention toward the TV screen persisted relatively uninterrupted until the middle of the second quarter when the kids started pestering each other and Andrew and I with creative attention-getting tactics.:
Ellie and Landon played, “I’m a present popping out of a box!”
Gabe twisted and turned on the couch next to Andrew like a dog circling again and again, trying to get comfortable for a nap.
I made chocolate cookies.
Andrew and I analyzed the humor factor and stupid factor of the ensuing commercials.
Bruce Springsteen almost took himself out during the half time show while arthritically hoisting himself up onto the piano and then darned-near choked himself while slinging the guitar around his neck at the end of the show. (I thought I saw him stagger a few times too. Good thing his voice still rocks.)
Around the same time, and while pretending to practice sitting on the potty seat in the bathroom, two-year-old Gabriel unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper onto the floor at his feet. When I went in to check on him, he smiled devilishly at me an announced, while looking back at the empty cardboard TP roll, “Gong!” (his apraxic version of saying the word, ‘gone’)
At the beginning of the third quarter, “Picksbird” still ahead by thirteen, all three kids were playing Rocket Ship Launcher with Daddy and, just moments later, pantomiming gorging themselves on food and self-inducing the Heimlich maneuver to barf up the imaginary food. (I swear, they each only ate one piece of pizza, a few sips of Seven-Up and two chocolate cookies apiece between the hours of 4:30 and 7:00)
Mid way through the third quarter, Gabe was playing “Bunny Hop”–springing with care-free measure between the coffee table and the couch; parents only telling him half-heartedly to get down before hurting himself while watching the Cardinals push hard for a recovery as the game neared the last quarter.
By the end of the third quarter, Arizona having caught up to the ‘Burgh within three points, the kids’ collective energy was waning. Reduced to common annoyance tactics, Ellie decided she would copy whatever Mom and Dad said in response to the action on TV. Landon, of course, decided to copy Ellie:
Andrew: “That was a stupid thing to do.” (in response to the unnecessary roughness perpetrated by the Cardinals against the Steeler’s holder)
Ellie: “Yeah, that was stupid.”
Landon: “Yeah, stupid. What was stupid?”
Ellie: “I want Picksbird to win.”
Landon: “Me too.”
Kimmelin: “Landon, get off the coffee table! I’m tired of telling you that!”
Ellie: “Yeah, Landon! Get off the coffee table! I’m tired of telling you that too!” (as if)
Beginning of fourth quarter: I was done. After an abbreviated bed time routine, all three kids were in bed and asleep by seven thirty at which time I settled down on the blissfully quiet couch next to Andrew; catching the remaining fifteen glorious minutes of the game.
WOW! What a game-winning pass and catch by Roethlisberger and Holmes!
(Who said she wasn’t going to take any interest in the game? Oh yeah, did I mention Andrew and I lived in Pittsburgh for almost six years prior to moving back to Montana? Go Steelers!)