The purest Sunday moment

While I used to dream of sleeping  in on a Sunday, now there’s nothing I love better than getting up early, going downstairs, make my coffee, sit down in front of the TV and watch people so much smarter than me talk about the world situation. I watch Christiane Amapour interview world leaders and then talk to her round table, which always includes George Will. I rarely understand anything being discussed, but I feel smarter just attempting to.

And then I prepare for my beloved football, watching FOX NFL Sunday. These guys I understand. One or two of them make me feel smart, for which I am grateful. But the pure joy I feel on these Sunday mornings is the fact that I’m downstairs, while the rest of my beautiful family is still upstairs sleeping. It’s a warm, comfy feeling knowing they are safe and peaceful and not bothering me.

 Yes, I admit this is my selfish time and I LOVE it. But sadly it does not last. My daughter will come down, see I’m watching football and whine that I’m watching football, and not one of her dozen stupid (sorry, but come on!) reality TV show about some disgusting (come on, they are!) wives. Every Sunday this happens, as if she’s shocked that football games are played on Sunday. Then my wife, whom I love very much (you look beautiful today, Honey!) comes down, gives me the “you better have made coffee” look, picks up the phone and calls her mom or sister back east. At which point I hold my breath and quietly pray that she’ll stay in the kitchen to talk so I can hear Howie and Jimmy and Terry argue over the Brett Favre debacle. She never stays in the kitchen, but I never give up hope. She’ll come out to the living room, loudly talking to her mom/sis, lie down on the couch, look at me annoyed until I turn down the TV, at which point I hone my lip-reading skills.

So now I hear my wife on the phone, my daughter asks me how long will I be watching football, I answer (like I always do) “ALL DAY,” to which she whines even louder, and I try to stay in my zone. Eventually my son comes down, sees what game I’m watching, I tell him the score, and he says “I know.” He couldn’t possibly, but you see, he knows everything. There’s nothing you can tell him that he doesn’t know. I think he should be on the Christiane Amapour Show. He then opens his computer and starts video chatting with a friend from the couch.

So essentially my Sunday morning serenity is now over. But I have to admit I still get enormous joy whenever the whole family is together. Even if I have to TiVo my football games and watch them again at midnight after everyone’s asleep.

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2 Responses to The purest Sunday moment

  1. Fellow Father says:

    I hope your day went better for you than it did for the Jets.
    Rest easy knowing you will wake up today with the pleasure of knowing it is Monday.
    I’m sure you won’t be disturbed any at work.

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