Black and Gold

I am THAT mom. The one that I promised I would never become. I am the mom wearing the matching yellow and black shirt with my boys' names on the back. All I'm missing is a milk jug filled with dry beans.

Keagan is that guy. The guy that gets tackled and gets a scratch on his arm that produces a bit of blood, and by the end of the game, the story eventually morphs into "my arm was bleeding like a volcano."

Evan is that sideline ref. Not one penalty was our fault. That tackle our linebacker did while the center still held the ball was just a misunderstanding. The holding call wasn't holding at all; it was a slight nudge. This according to Evan who while playing QB couldn't possibly be biased with his calls.

They are "Magic Hands" and "The Punisher," and this is what you call yourself when you scramble twice and score two touchdowns and throw blocks to make sure your big brother gets the six points both times.

If you don't like football or reading about football, then please check back after October 22. Because until then, I think it is safe to assume football will be our only form of entertainment.