Another year, another wasted obsession trying to figure out how to win the never-ending saga against my wife. If you have ever been in my position, you fully understand my grief.
I have tried everything. I taunted her. I purposely didn't answer when she tried to fish for information. One year, I formed an unholy alliance with my dog. I even went to freakin' Tibet (still not sure how that ended but it wasn't good). All in the name of restoring order to this unbalance I continuously feel in March Madness's version of the Force.
Suddenly, a shot rang out (sorry, wrong story...but it sure seemed like a dark and stormy night). Actually, it was my 5-year old son, Nate, in the quietest voice possible.
"Dad, I was thinking that maybe, after you get done working, you could maybe play Pokemon with me?"
Can't resist that face.
"Yes Nate, I am there...as soon as I get done "working" (I was actually studying my NCAA board...it might take all day)"
"Dad...can I ask you an embarrassing question?"
Oh, no...he wants to have THAT talk now?? It's too soon. I wasn't ready. At all. Why can't he ask his Mom? Deep breath..
"Yes, Nate, go ahead"
"Has Chewy ever talked to you before?
Uh-oh. This question was actually worse. I looked past Nate to see the furry terror asleep on top of the couch.
"Ummm..Chewy talked to you?" I said this innocently knowing I had way too many such conversations in the past. Usually starting with the opening of a beer and words like "intervention" and "pour some in my dish".
"I think so, Dad. He jumped up in my bed last night and I heard this whisper sound. Like someone saying 'pick your own Nate...don't let your Dad interfere with your bracket'. Except it was rough, almost like a bark"
Ugh...it was obvious Chewy wasn't over the rain incident from three years ago. And he was still picking on my challenges with all things bracket-related. Now he was involving the 5-year old.
"Is that all?"
"Don't get mad at me...but he also said you will never win the battle in your own house, much less the whole pool. And you should just give up because you're a loser when it comes to college basketball."
Fighting words. I need to defend myself. Except my track record is defenseless. And that was a pretty full paragraph for "Dad I think the dog can talk".
"Nate, you were probably just dreaming. But did he say anything else?"
"Yes...something about peanut butter"
At that point, I swear that over Nate's shoulder, I saw a smile crease his furry face as he pretended to be asleep. But he wasn't making that goofy "whoop" noise so he obviously wasn't dreaming about chasing rabbits.
Game on. Time once again to go dog hunting.
TO BE CONTINUED
Peace,
Reg
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