Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Wherein My “Sons” Deny Their Testosterone-Fueled Genetic Make-up

Last summer I took Sam to his first football game. It wasn’t the Patriots, but it was still entertaining. Oh, did I forget to mention that I’m an avid New England Patriots fan living in Buffalo? Yeah . . . .

The time came again this year when tickets became available, and I asked for Kid’s Weekend & the Pats game again, figuring I’d take Sammy as he had such a good time last year. I was even planning on bringing the digital camera so he could get a better look at the . . . um . . . players.

Aunt Jill decided to have a party on the same day as the game.

Sam likes Aunt Jill better than football, professional cheerleaders, and hot dogs, apparently.

During the drive to her house, I desperately tried to get him to change his mind about going to the game. His final answer? “Don’t worry Daddy. We can go the next one.”

The cat’s in the cradle with the silver spoon. . .

No matter. I was disappointed, but not crushed. I have two other sons. One of them would go, if for nothing else, just to take a ride with Daddy. I asked Noah.

His response: Ok.

I was happy again. Then Sam ran out with his bathing suit on and jumped into the pool. Noah’s answer changed quickly. No matter. I still had one more son. I asked Aidan.

Me: Aidan, do you want to go to a football game with Daddy?

Aidan: (blank stare)

Me: Aidan, do you want to take a ride with Daddy?

Aidan: Aidan go pool.

Where did I go wrong? They would rather do this than see a football game.

I have no sons.