Super Bowl Confusion

“Tommy, do you know what these represent?” I asked.



Tommy peered at the decorated cookies. “Um.” He scratched his arm. “Um. The Bowl?”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. His response just proved how often we watch sports. “The Super Bowl, yes,” I corrected. “It’s a big football game.”

Tommy didn’t seem impressed. He’s not into football. I’m not into football. My husband, he’s into football when the Cleveland Browns are doing well. This rarely happens so he doesn’t watch much of it either.

Honestly, I don’t even understand the rules of football. Tom promised he’d teach me one day but most of the time he’s all, “Basically, the goal is to get a touchdown.” Um. I knew that part, thanks.

Tommy isn’t into sports because he’s not that great at them. He tries, he really does. Like once Tom threw a football back and forth with him and more often than not, the football bounced off Tommy’s chest and fell to the ground.

“Good job,” Tom would say as Tommy would scramble to retrieve the ball. Then Tommy would attempt to throw it back to Tom and it would fall like ten feet from where he was standing.

Poor kid, he inherited my coordination. I remember in PE class how I’d scream if we were playing softball and the ball actually rolled towards me. Then my teammates would yell at me to get the ball, I’d scramble after it usually tripping along the way, and throw it to the wrong person.

My bad.

“Who do you want to win the Super Bowl?” I asked Tommy.

Tommy tapped his chin. He stared hard at the cookies as though this were an important decision. “I like...” he began, “I like these guys.” He pointed to the Steelers cookie.

“That works out, because I prefer the Packers. I like their colors more. The Steelers colors remind me of a bee, and I don’t like bees. Remember what the bees did to Thomas J?”

Tommy nodded. I had let him watch My Girl with me and he was horrified that Thomas J died on account of bee stings. It probably wasn’t a good idea to let him watch the movie because whenever a bee would come close to him, he’d go racing around our yard yelling, “Get away from me, bees! I KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO THOMAS J!”

I need to explain that he’s not allergic to them so he doesn’t flip out at school. Otherwise I have a feeling that I’ll get a phone call from his teacher saying something like, “You need to come down and get Tommy. He keeps screaming about bees and someone called Thomas J.”

“Maybe I want the Packers,” Tommy said.

“Um, nope. You picked the Steelers. May the best team win.” I shook Tommy’s hand.

We started to eat our cookies. Mmm, packers colors never tasted so good.

“What do I get if the Steelers win?” Tommy wanted to know.



“A buck,” I answered. Then I worried that I might not even have a dollar in my wallet. I mainly pay with my debit card. I rarely have cash on me. When Tommy left the room I checked my wallet. Crap. No cash.

But…

It turns out I didn’t need it because the Packers won.

I knew I ate the right cookie.