The Superbowl is not going to be really enjoyable for me until my kids are old enough to shut up and watch the game. We had our usual family party and my kids spent most of the game running around in circles screaming, the problem being that they had to do this in front of the TV. At least they're in good moods, my mom pointed out, but to me, when I am trying to focus on something, screaming is screaming. I spent the last few minutes of the game watching the TV from my office (thank you high def!) because I felt like I was going to vomit from all the tension. When the Giants scored, I ran into the room with my hands up, screaming, as if I had caught the touchdown. I even hoisted Rocket above my head, telling him this was a victory for little brothers everywhere, but Kevin has pointed out that a little brother to an older sister is very different from a little brother to an older brother. Rocket may be the youngest, but he is our oldest boy, which apparently removes the older sibling shadow. One fewer hurdle to overcome in life for Rocket. Does this make him more Peyton Manning and not so much Eli?
Nigella's chocolate caramel crispy cakes were a hit last night and because they contain corn flakes, I am assuming they double as breakfast food. At least that is what I told myself this morning.
