It was a weekend of food and football at our house. With the Queen Mother in town, mothering anyone and anything she could get her hands on. Poor Houseboy’s girlfriend tried her best to make that great first impression we all want with our mate’s parents. She baked amazing cookies (which the Queen Mother deemed not fattening enough and ended up sandwiching ice cream between two of them–does that paint a picture of what I’m working against here?) and she sat through a gazzillion football games with my sports-crazed clan. Somewhere in the middle of this I heard
“Its NOT a yellow ribbon.”
“Well it looks like a ribbon.”
“Its a FLAG. A penalty flag.”
“Ok, so its a bean sac with a yellow ribbon?”
Poor girl. She’s trying. She really is. She’s baking and attempting to grasp football. She’ll get there. I hope. Or she’ll be gone before Christmas.
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