The score is 57-0. We are not the 57. 7 minutes left. I asked if he wanted to leave. He asked to sit in my lap. He wins this round. me on twitter
This picture was taken right after that.
I am terrible at the iPhone self-portrait. I took about 20 of these and this is the best one. You can call me Shaky McShakerhands.
Not long after this, we scored a touchdown, at which point The Boy turned to me and said “See?! Good thing we didn’t leave!” Our team missed the point-after. The game ended 57-6. Which makes it seem closer than it was (they dropped two passes that would have been touchdowns).
Full conversation when I asked him if he wanted to leave:
Me: “Do you want to leave?”
Him: “Is it over?”
Me: “Well, there’s still some time left, but we aren’t going to win. We’re going to lose. By a lot.”
Him: “Well, I don’t want to stay because of the score, I want to stay because of the game.” (Which actually reminded me of another story for another day.) “Can I sit on your lap?”
Me: “Sure, are you cold?”
Him: “A little, but I don’t want to leave because I’m cold either.”
Me: “Ok.”
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