Adventures Of Fatherhood
Obviously, the Ravens took home the top prize, which makes it memorable alone for a fan. Best of all, though, was being able to watch it with my family.
Earlier in the week, I passed on several opportunities to watch the Super Bowl in person in New Orleans. I seriously considered at least one of those offers, but I’m glad in the end I saved the money and watched it at home.
The highlight of the game for me was Jacoby Jones’ second half kickoff return for a touchdown, which touched off a huge celebration at my house and presumably everywhere Ravens fans were.
At that time, in one room Carson was playing with some toys and flipping through books, while Beckett and I were in another room watching the game. Actually, Beckett was playing on the iPad and I was fixated on the game. Nearby, Pam was roaming between the rooms, juggling parental duties while keeping an eye on the game.
Once Beckett saw me jumping up and down after the score, he dropped the iPad and leaped atop a nearby ottoman and started jumping around as well. He didn’t know what we were celebrating, but he never passes on an opportunity to jump on furniture.
Amidst all the celebration, I grabbed him and started tossing him around celebrating, which of course he loved so much. He kept asking me to do it again and again and told him I would when we score another touchdown.
Unfortunately, then came that ridiculous power outage that stalled the game for over half an hour. That’s when we lost Beckett as he fell asleep watching the game on the couch in his Ravens jersey and hat. Carson had already turned in at half-time.
During a commercial break, I quickly carried Beckett upstairs and put him to bed. I basically just dropped him in his bed and put the covers on. Fortunately, he never moved an inch because bedtime stories would have been a challenge during the Super Bowl.
From that point on, the celebrations had to be muted somewhat not to wake up the kids. I recall at one point shadow boxing, while Pam jumped up and down. It was silent for the most part, of course.
The next morning neither kid seemed to remember there was a Super Bowl at first, but we quickly filled them in. Beckett wanted to know when the Ravens played again and was not too happy when I told him in about six months.
He even started to cry a bit until I told him I would be happy to throw him around some more and celebrate for no good reason at all. The one condition was it would have to be the next day since daddy was feeling “very tired” (sure, that’s what we will call it) at 6:30 in the morning the day after the Super Bowl.
One of the kids’ joint Christmas gifts this year was an inside trampoline, which I thought at the time was just a recipe for disaster.
Like so many things, it turns out I was wrong, and it has been a nice addition to the house, even if it’s incredibly out of place in our Victorian home.
The inside trampoline, which is yellow and blue and equipped with two trusty handles and a booming sound system, has come in handy, particularly on bad weather days. It has created some funny images.
Carson was jumping so hard on it one night he jumped directly out of his pants. Somehow his shirt also was off, but I think he shed it prior to getting on the trampoline in the first place. Apparently, he prefers to jump in just his diaper at this point.
As a sort of punishment for beingtoo rough with his little brother, Beckett was sent to the trampoline to jump out his meanness. He jumped and jumped and kept asking when he could stop. The answer was always “not yet, not yet.”
He eventually stopped on his own because the trampoline counter congratulated him and told him it was time to take a break. Apparently, and nowhere in the directions does it confirm this, the jump counter stops at 100.
With Beckett’s energy and stamina level, that only keeps him occupied for a couple minutes. That’s the only downside to that thing.
I lost Carson the other morning during a snowball fight.
Fortunately, I knew he had not gotten too far and was able to quickly locate him hiding behind a car in the driveway. There he was sitting in the snow doing absolutely nothing. I figured he was just hiding out and seeking shelter from his big brother.
In hindsight, I should have figured something was up because there are not too many kids that I know who pass up the opportunity for a good snowball fight.
Once we all got in the car and I dusted all the snow off me from being ambushed by Beckett, I learned what Carson had been up to in isolation. He was answering nature’s call, the dirtiest of them all.
When I mentioned it, Beckett, of course, obsessed on it because that’s what 4-year-old boys do -- they fascinate on poop. Beckett’s idea was to stick snow down his little brother’s pants, saying, “that will take care of your problem daddy.”
Carson thought that was just hilarious and the two cooked up a scheme to carry it out once the car stopped. Much to their dismay, I didn’t let the good old boy network in the backseat carry out their plan.