It has gotten to the point where I have had to put down a “No Talking Heads” rule. What’s a talking head? Well, think SportsCenter. It is anyone who is a part of the non-stop, incessant world of sports commentators. Our kids, Caleb in particular, would be thrilled to sit and watch these aforementioned talking heads for hours if we let him. And thus, the “no talking heads” rule. I tell the kids: “If it’s not a real game, you may not watch it. You are far too bright, creative and active to zone out to a bunch of talking heads.”
And then, the other day, while catching a glimpse of some talking heads, Caleb called out to me, “Mom, when I grow up, I want to be a talking head.” Now given his interest in numbers and stats and scorekeeping, I wouldn’t say that career path is a bad one. However, I didn’t bother to tell him that most talking heads are former (washed up, now fat) professional athletes. And given his gene pool, that is an unlikely path for him.
Our kids also have an uncanny ability to cheer for the team that will lose. Truly, other than the Olympics, I can’t think of a game we have watched with them that the team they rooted for won. And so it went during the Super Bowl yesterday. Yes, they had decided they were Arizona Cardinals fans.
Over the course of the past few weeks, they have gotten into a bit of cute trash talking (that may be the first time those three words were put together in a string) with a 20-something dude at the ski shop where they are taking lessons.
He first learned about their interest in professional football right after New Year’s. I think they went in wearing jerseys for some team or another. And I think their excitement and conviction struck him and in his 20-something, dude-way, I think he thought they were funny and a bit cute. And so now, each Saturday when we go to get the boots and skis, he starts off by saying “Go Steelers” (or before that whoever was playing against Arizona). And they’d respond, “Booo, [insert name of team]. Go Cardinals!” And they’d go back and forth like that while the kids got ready. This week he came back at them with, “Oh yeah? Well I am going to tape the game and bring it in next week to show you all of the Steelers highlights!” "Noooo! No way!" our kids shot back.
I give this kid a ton of credit, by the way, and not that he will ever see this but think he’s pretty cool for talking to these kids (in a positive way) like they were two of his friends.
We had our final round of trash talking on Saturday and went to our friends, the Taylors, to watch the game. And down to the end it was looking promising. Now we’ve gone down this path before. Last year at the Taylors, when the whoever-was-playing team lost, Caleb burst into sobs. I mean giant tears squirting down his face, can’t catch his breath sobs. So even though Arizona appeared to be rallying at the end, we kept saying to Caleb, “It’s just a game, Caleb. There are no guarantees. There is plenty of time left.”
And so, they lost. And Caleb, to his credit, took it all in stride. Noah, however, fell apart and sobbed. And while gasping for air could be heard saying, “I am MAD at Pittsburgh.” (I assume he meant the team and not the entire city.) We picked up our puddle of a kid (and the other two, too) and headed home. We got home with three asleep.
Ah yes, I think I am ready for a break from football. And I will have to get in ski boot/ski rental room ahead of the boys on Saturday to warn ski dude to tone down the trash talking. Unless he wants a puddle of a 5-year-old in his ski shop.
But now we’re onto basketball and those talking heads are even worse!
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