Super Bowl weekend is here, and so I must force myself to notice my daughter. I know this because she composed an essay years ago entitled "Why I Hate the Superbowl."
It reads, "My mom & dad yel so much and it hurts my ears. I don't understand it. My brother gets me in troble because my dad is trighing to listen. They don't pay Iny atinchin to me."
Fair Enough. Of course, now that she's 16, she probably won't even be around. In fact, I believe she is scheduled to work at the Italian Place during the game.
If she does grace us with her presence, I will be sure to pay atinchin to her. She always was a good speller.
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Update: Of course, it was a slow night at The Italian Place. She said they had about 12 customers in four hours. Finally, they surrendered to The Super Bowl and closed early. As I predicted, she did not watch the game with us. She had a better offer. She never pays Iny atinchin to me anymore. You reap what you sow, I guess.
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Friday, February 01, 2008
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