22 January, 2007

Super Bowl, here we come!

We did it! Can I say "we" even though I live in London? My hometown football team, that's American football, is headed to the Super Bowl! Go Colts! I think it was the karma of my niece, little Jane, who spent the day in Colts pajamas, that turned the corner for the team. Of course, my sister is a big, powerful executive at the definitive sports channel which until I get permission from her must remain anonymous, so she knows how to train a child to be a sports fan. Yippee! Apparently part of the big buzz is that both teams, the Colts and the Bears, have black coaches, and it is the first time a black coach has got to the Super Bowl. That sure seems a long time coming, and I can understand the Indianapolis coach when he says he hopes that stops being remarkable, fairly soon. Good, we need another sporting event to get excited about. And at least I can sort of understand the rules, unlike cricket.

I wish we could turn some of their good luck on poor Avery, who is home sick for almost the first time ever. Just miserable, and quite bored as well. "If I have to look at another computer screen, or television screen, I will go crazy!" is the verdict. Plus, she claims not to be able to swallow a pill, so there is no abating of her symptoms. This to her father is a serious red flag. He has visions of her suddenly, overnight, coming down with an ailment that if she can't swallow six pills on a Tuesday with a full moon, she'll die. To John, saying she can't do something is just... an illness in itself. So he's huffy. "Daddy's lost all sympathy," Avery says. "But you're still a nice mummy." The child knows that a household without even one sucker parent is a cold, cold house.

So how to entertain an at-home child? I'm afraid we're looking at that parents' worst nightmare: the boardgame. Meanwhile, good on you, Colts!

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