The absolute best thing has happened to our family: my oldest child is finally old enough to help me defeat my husband. She spent her childhood learning at the feet of the master, and is finally ready to take her place at my side. Together we are a formidable team, united against the forces of evil. Or, for now, united against the forces of televised sports.
My husband, saint that he is six days of the week, becomes a total jerk when sports are on. Spare me your competing tales of your own husbands who yell when their favorite team loses. My husband doesn’t care who’s playing. He can randomly flip channels, find any two teams locked in combat on any kind of sport-related stage, and begin screaming over dropped passes or bad calls. We seriously endured two hours of a field hockey match between the University of California-Santa Monica Banana Slugs and the Delta State University Fighting Okra (I swear I”m not making this up), in which his blood pressure rose high enough to cause him to actually pass out briefly during one quarter of the game. It didn’t matter at all that my husband doesn’t know the rules of field hockey, he was still indignant to the point of rage over what he perceived was an intentional tripping and several high-stick calls that went unnoticed by the referee.
Let the revenge commence.
My oldest and I established court on the living room sofas with elaborate snack stuffs spread before us, wearing matching navy blue striped T-shirts. The TV was on for only a few minutes before we began screaming.
“Stir! Stir! What do you think you’re doing???”
“No way! He did not just take that other guy’s baster!”
“You call those even slices?!? Stop waving at the camera and watch what you’re doing!”
“Seriously? DRIED oregano? Is walking your butt outside and snipping some fresh oregano TOO MUCH TO ASK???”
“NOOOOOOOO! He didn’t hear the oven timer! Delay of flan penalty!”
Fortunately, I’ve raised my daughter well and she was able to keep this up with me for the entire two hours of Cupcake Wars. My husband walked through the living room far more often than necessary and I’m sure it was so he could shoot ugly looks at us. He did promise us that he wouldn’t watch any more sports for the rest of the weekend if we would stop watching FoodNetwork, so we were happy to oblige. We switched over to the infomercial channel and commentated on several hours’ worth of “act now and we’ll double your order” sales pitches.