Wednesday, April 13, 2005

Adam's comment to this post reminded me of a long-standing joke that Kristin and I have:

I'm into contact sports. I LOVE football and rugby and have been known to admire the physical dimensions of fellows who participate in said arenas. On the other hand, Kristin doesn't really follow sports per se and gravitates to the more slightly-built, alterna-musical/computer-sexy type guy. Huge generalizations, but it's enough to paint you a picture, no? So anyway, we decided that in our futures she would be mother to a gaggle of whip-smart, motivated, pale, unathletic progeny, whereas I would raise a slew of heavy-browed knuckle-draggers who would mainly grunt and point. Not only that, but my wee bruisers would be terrorized by her smaller but more clever children--so might would not make right for my poor fellas. Thus what Adam asks for will most likely come to pass--and HOW COOL WOULD THAT BE?!--and one day a boy with no discernible neck who has to turn sideways to fit through conventional door openings will take his mother's maiden name to make his way in the NFL and kick some ass, Doss-style.

Mommy loves you, my toothless Neanderthal wonder!


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