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For the Love of the Game

At six o’ clock last night I ceased parenting.  At least effectively.

The Gonzaga men’s basketball team, whom I’ve yet to see play–even on t.v….in something like decades…was, well, playing.  Which, I’m sure, is a normal occurence in the winter. 

Only last night’s game meant a little bit more.  As in the winning team would walk on air to the NCAA tournament.  And though I couldn’t identify a single player on the team, nor do I have a vested interest in Gonzaga,  I suddenly couldn’t miss this…because…

because Gonzaga needed one more person inches from the screen biting her nails.

The only weird thing?  

Me.  Trying to work a remote.  And parent from my peripheral.

Heh…I did my best…

to watch the game, that is.

And my kids…

my kids poked around their imagination, and came up with a way to shove everything from their suitcases, plus a hotel towel or two, down their pajamas and still zip the things up.

Uh…hard to be prouder.  Which is why I present…two hefty looking children who–bless their hearts–let their mother enjoy a basketball game.

 

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