THE SUPER BOWL was on in my house last weekend, but I was the only one who cared, because my family does not watch football. They tolerate it.
During the regular season, Little Solomon sits next to me and uses me for my nachos. By the end of the first quarter, when his face is smeared with Cheez Whiz, he’s usually off to play Halo at the neighbor’s.
Eve fakes interest so she can get extra pickles on her game time hoagie.
LaVeta? She doesn’t understand why I spend hours watching grown men trying to kill each other over a ball. But to her credit, she’s realized that speaking against football is sacrilege, so she normally watches old movies while I holler as if the players can actually hear me.
The Super Bowl is no normal game, though. It’s a television event. Granted, I’m generally the only person on the couch who understands it, but that doesn’t matter to my family. They just want to be entertained, and this year’s Super Bowl ads nearly did the trick.
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