Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Maybe this is why I work?

I don't work much. I mean, not at a real paid job, anyway. This semester I'm only teaching one class and it falls on Monday nights which leaves Scott in charge of the kids for about an hour and a half before they go to bed.

Maybe it is because he is a man or maybe it is because he's not around the kids as much as I am or maybe he's just more efficient and less distracted, but when he has the kids to himself, they do things I would never think of doing. Not bad things, just different things.

Tonight, that thing was football. You see, Scott and I really love football. And yesterday I told the girls that football is "so easy even meat heads can understand it." After that he said something about football I didn't understand. As if to prove that he's not a meat head. Or that it isn't a meat head sport.

We spent some time explaining the basics of football (and I REFRAINED from interrupting when I thought he might not know how to explain it -- it turns out he really IS a football expert, after all). By the end of the session, the girls knew how to get a touchdown, how many points it's worth, what an extra point is, and what a field goal is. We started to explain downs but it didn't make as much sense on paper as it does in real life.

So you know what he did tonight? My sweet husband played football with two little girls.

How freakin' awesome is that? My husband, my strong, football-loving husband, played football with two little girls. He taught them what downs are by playing the game with them.

Never mind that Callie kept telling him how many "meters" they had left to go before getting a first down. Forget about the fact that Brynn played defense by standing in the end zone with her hands up (just like she stands under the hoop with her hands up in basketball).

The girls PLAYED football. And if I had been here? It never would have happened. I would have made them go to their rooms to clean up, to get ready for bed, to read. Scott and I would have lollygagged in the kitchen until the girls really had to go to bed.

I know that being a single parent would be an unfathomable challenge. But being a single parent for one night out of seven? That might not be so bad.

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