It all started when we got home from a luncheon held at church. Hubby became glued to the tube down in our family room. After 16 years of marriage, I finally figured out that you don't just watch your team play, you also watch who they might be playing in the Super Bowl. In earlier years, Hubby was held captive by the radio, making frequent calls to his die hard, fanatical, Packer-loving parents.
There was no use in trying to make anything formal out of dining, tonight, so, the kids and I snacked our way through the rest of the afternoon and into dinner. What else where we to do?
Throughout the afternoon, one child or another would search and find me, excitedly reporting the plays and giving updates on the score. My son was jubilant when the Packers were winning, the girls when the Giants scored.
I did want to watch at least part of the game since my team was also playing--against my Hubby's. Hearing it was the end of the game and they were tied, I raced downstairs to watch the finale. When Lawrence Tynes missed the field goal, I had to leave. It was just too much. I couldn't watch it one minute more. Simply watching them play on that frigid field gave me frostbite, made my muscles cramp, and teeth chatter. Dampened spirits of looming defeat added to my discomfort.
I did come back after the kids told me my team had won. The above picture was the replay of the winning field goal.
Go Giants!!!
--LKR
I honestly love watching kids play soccer! The above image is the best shot I got from this morning, which was made as the storm subsided. (Raindrops blurred many goal shots of younger teams playing, and my son's team was too far for a decent, recognizable image!) Those brave souls! --LKR
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