GoofBoy, unsurprisingly, watched the SuperBowl. He was going to watch it with Carpool Buddy as a little celebration for Carpool Buddy's 10th birthday. This could not work out, since Carpool Buddy's dad is a Canadian and consequently does not understand that in America the Superbowl is way more important then bedtime consistency.
I should have watched with GoofBoy, male-bonding and all that, but I am not actually interested in football. So I watched the PuppyBowl with GoofGirl. It is even cuter then it sounds.
Besides tussling puppies, it features cheerleader chickens, a blimp piloted by hamsters, and best of all a half-time show featuring cats (way better then the Black-Eyed Peas).
GoofGirl really likes cats, so she asked me (inevitably), "When can we get a cat?"
"We can't get a cat. Mommy is allergic to cats."
"I never get what a want," she sulked.
This is a nice bit of divine justice, I spent much of my childhood demanding a dog, to which my mom responded, "Your father and brother are allergic to dogs."
"So?" I would demand.
"So, if we got a dog we would have to get rid of your father and your brother."
I didn't see a problem with that at the time, in fact I saw it as a win-win.
To head off this conversation, I tried to re-direct.
"You know when she was a little girl, Bubbe thought all cats were girls and all dog were boys," I told GoofGirl. Stories of her grandmother as a little girl are fascinating to GoofGirl.
"Hmmph," GoofGirl grunted, "Bubbe must have been pretty stupid. Is it because they didn't have the Internet?"
"You should ask her."
GoofGirl glared at me, "I'm not stupid! Maybe Bubbe will get me a kitten."