Black, Gold, and Awesome All Over.

If there is one thing Mr. Husband is guilty of doing, it's acting as a remote control for the pint-sized person. He will hunt down a program that she wants to watch pretty much all of the time. Hannah Montana? Sure. Mickey Mouse Clubhouse? Of course. High School Musical? He totally has a man-crush on Zac Efron.

There is an exception to his Remote Control impersonations--he will not appease the child during hockey or football. Ever. Fortunately for him, the kid bleeds black and gold and is perfectly happy watching her boyfriend Sidney Crosby skate around or her future father-in-law Troy Polamalou run down the field with his hair in tow. It never ceases to amaze me how well she adapts to the severe Pittsburgh Sports fever we have going on around here. She just gets it.

Today we spent the day wincing at the Steelers game and gutting some pumpkins. In most circles, that's what is called a Perfect Sunday. When the Steelers finally wrapped up the game and sent old man Favre back to his hidey hole, Mr. Husband grabbed the remote and began hunting for Kid-friendly TV. Yeah, yeah, yeah. He's so nice. Anyway, he finally encountered what seemed to be a good program--a Halloween figure skating special.

As the witches and goblins spun through the air, Mr. Husband and I whispered to each other that the program was kinda lame. It had the makings of Most Excellent, but there just wasn't enough scary going on. (We don't do that Winnie the Pooh OoooOOooo Christmas thing. We want blood-sucking, carnage-filled BOO.) No matter, though, if Alexis wanted to watch it, fine. She had happily sat through about five hours of football. It was definitely her turn.

Alexis glanced up from her pumpkin gutting activities a few times, remarking about how she wanted ice skates, too. I took her ice skating once last winter, and she's mentioned that she wants to go back every single time ice has been on TV since then. The skaters made it through about two performances before Alexis let out a big sigh and said, "Turn it off. I want to watch football."

Damn I love that kid.



(For those of you keeping track, Christmas Crazy for Kids will get its start later in the week, no later than November 1.)

Signs of Success

There are moments when you realize that you must not be totally sucking at that parenting thing, like the Monday night when you notice that your 3-year old has pulled up a chair and curled up to watch some football. You REALLY know you're on the right track when she then turns around and asks, "Where is Hines Ward?"

If Ever There Was a Conversation That I Wish I Had on Video, This Is It

"Are you ready to watch Steelers tonight?" I asked Alexis as I carried her to the car from the daycare playground.

Her eyes popped wide open, she giggled, and then she excitedly yelled, "YES!"

"Who is your favorite Steeler?" I asked.

"Ummm . . . Sidney Crosby," she replied, glee still dripping from her voice.

"Sidney Crosby plays hockey, silly," I told her.

"No, he doesn't," she said. Everything is an argument. EVERYTHING. "He plays poofball," she continued.

I laughed. "No, he plays hockey for the Penguins," I continued.

"OH YEAH!" she replied, in a voice that made it sound like she had just uncovered a stash of chocolate-covered potato chips (yummmmmmmmm).

She thought for a moment, looked at me, grinned and yelled, "POLAMALUUUUUUUUU! He's my favorite!" then jumped out of my arms and stood in the daycare parking lot doing a Polamalu dance.

That? Is MY girl!

Up and Down and Up and Down and Up and Down and WAY Up

When I parked my car along a well-lit and busy street on Friday afternoon, I was looking forward to a spectacular weekend. Dinner with some of my favorite peeps, followed by some Penguins hockey, a little bit of shopping, and the grand finale on Sunday night--the Steelers playing in the Super Bowl. I wasn't expecting to return to my car to find a smashed window and a missing computer. I also wasn't expecting to spend a solid hour waiting for a police officer so I could file a report, followed by a half hour shivering as I tried to vacuum out the millions of little shards of glass that had exploded all over the inside of Audrey. And I definitely wasn't expecting to cruise along ten miles of highway in 15 degree weather without a window.

A spectacular start all right.

As I tried to find the happy on Saturday, the Penguins decided to smash my hope into more pieces than that broken window. As they choked on a sizable lead, I started to get that sensation of impending doom in the pit of my stomach. With the Super Bowl looming in the future, I began to mentally prepare myself for the worst. The worst weekend in history.

I spent all morning Sunday preparing for the inevitability. I started by convincing Mr. Husband that it was a fine time to run to Ikea to buy a new bookshelf. What better way to distract yourself from an epic football loss than with impossible instructions for assembling for crappy Swedish furniture? On the way back home, I asked him to stop at Wal-Mart--a form of torture in its own. I irrationally decided that Alexis was going to be a monster all through the game and that we had better prepare by purchasing a Super Bowl Survival Kit for her.

We walked out with a new princess movie, Play-Doh, and play food. I had consented to the use of the portable DVD player, knowing that Alexis would turn into a zombie staring at her tiny little screen. Between that and some new toys, I figured she would be fairly well entertained as the grown-ups watched the game.

And she was. She watched the first half of the game pretty intently, but then started to realize that she had opted to skip her nap and was starting to fall into the Bedtime Zone. Of course, Mr. Husband and I were each vying for Parent of the Year, so neither of us was quick to head upstairs to tuck the kid in for the night. It was a silent battle of wills between two people who didn't want to miss a single second of the game. Determined to win the war, I started whipping out the new forms of entertainment.

God bless Play-Doh. It is MAGICAL.

If you watched the Super Bowl, you know what happened in the fourth quarter--STRESS. Suddenly, a game that looked to be a done deal just a few minutes prior was A GAME. A freakin' Bite Your Nails, Hold Your Breath, Fight the Urge to Hide Your Eyes, and Nearly Die of a Heart Attack GAME.

Of course, that's exactly when Alexis decided Play-Doh, her play kitchen, and the princess movie were all SOOOO 2008. An epic fit loomed large in front of us, just as a Steelers loss loomed large on the TV.

We had no choice.

We had to do it.

We whipped out the ol' Dora DVD.

Alexis hadn't watched a single second of Dora in months. I had banned the Latina Whore from our home after realizing just how crazy she makes Alexis. She who is generally cooperative grows an Attitude and Devil Horns after just a few minutes of watching that punk-assed beyotch, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

We paid the price after the game when we tried to get Alexis to go to bed. She didn't want to leave her beloved Latina Whore and threw the fit of the century. Yet, it didn't matter.

Living in the city that is home to the six-time Super Bowl champion Steelers will do that to you.

Thank goodness the roller coaster that was this weekend ended with a giant high.

What Alexis Was Doing When the Steelers Won Super Bowl XLIII

Wooooooooooohooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! Steelers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Here. We. Go!

Here We Go!

When she was 9 days old . . . the Steelers won the Super Bowl.

When she was one-year old . . . her Grandpa's favorite team, the Colts, won the Super Bowl.

When she was two-years old . . . the Penguins went to the Stanley Cup Finals.

Shortly after she turns three-years old . . . the Steelers will be in yet another Super Bowl.

I'd lend her skills to the Pirates, but I much prefer things this way.

SUPER BOWL!

Subliminal Messages? Where?

Here we go, Steelers!

How We Spent Our Sunday (Here We Go Steelers, Here We Go!)

Random: Yoi and Double Yoi Edition

- After reading all your comments from yesterday's post, I'm left wondering if any of you ever get any sleep. Don't answer that, by the way. If anybody says they do, I might have to throw rusty cans of rotten tomotoes at them. Anyway, y'all are a bunch of funny, sleep-deprived, blanket-scrounging, bed-wanting fools. Thanks for the laughs and for making me feel not-so-alone in my quest to sleep without wearing a toddler helmet.

In case you were wondering, the Toddler slept through the night last night, thereby ensuring that I would not get an opportunity to test my new method of threats. I'm sure I'll get my chance tonight. (Oh, and that does not mean I slept through the night. There's still the matter of those two pesky dogs.)

- A couple of my favorite Twits already know about it, but I got a new camera. As in, I got The Camera. It took over a year for me to talk myself into spending that kind of money on what is essentially a luxury, but when we got our federal tax refund, I thought about the fact that I take pictures just about every day and that my little bud the Sony Cybershot has been known to let me down quite frequently, and I figured it was justified. Of course, just thinking the words "maybe I'll finally buy a good camera" were enough to send Mr. Husband into hyper electronics acquisition mode. He spent HOURS researching prices and features and blah, blah, blah. It finally showed up on Saturday, and now he's the only one that has used it. The same man who has taken maybe 20 pictures in the past ten years has now taken over 100 in the past few days with Mr. Canon. I haven't taken a single one. Frankly, I'm a little bit scared of Mr. Canon. He's so big and powerful and amazing. I need to read his instruction guide, maybe take him out for dinner and a movie, and get to know him better.

- Project watch what you say is in full swing. The repeating? At never before seen levels. In the past week, Meg has been called stupid and special (both adults get the blame for the former, but the latter was all Mr. Husband). The Toddler is repeating EVERYTHING. I'm going to go out on a limb and bet that the first time she repeats a real bad cuss, I'm going to be the one responsible. That's what happens when you endlessly hound your husband not to swear.

- Coaches and players come and go, but there is one man who has and will always be The Pittsburgh Steelers--Myron Cope. The voice was unforgettable and the legacy will remain forever. We'll miss ya' Cope.



(Great tributes here and here.)

When I'm Wrong, I'm Wrong

Many thanks to all of you who have sent your condolences after the debacle that was last night's game. I appreciate your sentiments. Our local news this morning declared that "tens of thousands of Steelers fans are now in mourning." While that may be true, I am not one of them.

If anything, this season has been a season of pleasant surprises and the Steelers proving me wrong. I would have never thought they would make the playoffs this year, so I'm willing to be content with that much. I was also proven mostly wrong on the hiring of Mike Tomlin. (I say "mostly" because there was that one play last night where they went for it on fourth and goal, even after the penalty. At that moment, I do admit I might have been perhaps yelling something to the effect of "LOOK AT THE CLOCK! There's no hurry. Ron Rivera wouldn't be doing that, you bonehead. I can't believe . . . I TOLD YOU SO! Tomlin, you suck!" There may or may not have been a few more expletives thrown into that statement, but you get the idea.) There is also one individual that proved me wrong on such a grand scale that I think he may just have been doing it just to spite me.

That individual would be James Harrison. If you are not in the football know, James Harrison is a defensive player for the Pittsburgh Steelers. He was not drafted, but rather had to prove his worth through numerous tryouts to make the team as a walk-on (that almost never happens). Not only did he make the team a few years ago, this year he became a starter (happens even less often). He kicked butt on such grand scale this year that he will be going to the Pro Bowl (the odds at this point are astronomical).

Before he was a Steeler, Harrison went to Kent State. Guess what . . . me too! At Kent State, Harrison was a student athlete and took a few Economics classes. Wouldn't you know it . . . I was an Economics tutor for the athletic department! So anyway, I was Harrison's Econ tutor for two semesters. I actually tutored quite a few KSU football players. I would characterize Harrison as the one that made the most lasting impression.

Making a lasting impression in that arena requires a bit of skill, you should know. I had the lovely experience of being asked numerous times for copies of tests, asked if I could just sit in on the class for somebody and do the test for them, and I even had one guy who was obviously illiterate and really didn't care. Harrison fell into none of those categories of lazy and "too big" to care. No, he made an impression for an entirely different reason.

The dude ain't too bright.

Now, that sentence looks all mean, but really it's a dramatic understatement. I have never met anyone else with such an inability to learn and remember things. The guy really did not belong in college at all. He just wasn't made to sit in a classroom and learn. I was not at all shocked when he showed up, six weeks into the semester, with the Microeconomics book when he was taking Macroeconomics. I was actually kind of impressed he managed to find a book with "economics" in the title. I had a nickname for him, "Rockhead."

I should mention that he knew I called him Rockhead. It wasn't a secret at all. In fact, we spent an entire session one time discussing whether or not he had a Plan B. In my mind, if you're going to Kent State, you probably aren't going to be headed to the NFL. KSU won a whopping four games the first year I tutored Harrison, and that was nothing short of a miracle; it was the winningest season they had had in a while. So for me to say KSU football players don't go to the pros is a pretty acceptable statement. I figured it might be a good idea for Harrison to think about what he would do if he didn't make it to the NFL.

He said he was going to the NFL. Period.

There was some back and forth and eventually I let up. I just didn't see how a guy who thought a pie graph sounded delicious could ever learn to play at a professional level. I mean, think about it, there is a certain level of intelligence required to learn defensive schemes and play-calling. I did not think Harrison had it in him.

Obviously, I was wrong--BIG TIME. I don't think I was wrong that the guy struggles to learn, but I definitely underestimated the power of hard-work, perseverance, and sheer determination. Dude worked his butt off and is reaping the rewards. Every single time I see Rockhead beat down the opposition, I'm reminded of just how hard I know he has worked to get there.

Thanks for a great year, James. I promise to stop calling you "Rockhead" now.



(Y'know, that picture would be a million times better if you could see that I'm wearing my Harrison jersey, and if there weren't a freakin' naked baby doll in it. Gah! Toddlers and their stripping ruin all the best photos.)

Go Steelers!

(Real post likely to come AFTER the game.)

UPDATED TO ADD: Yeah, that line of text up there? It's totally a lie. There's no way I'm going to write a post after the game is over.

Random Thoughts Strike Again

- Proof that having kids really does change everything: We were seated near the register at Eat 'n Park (Pittsburgh's version of Denny's). A woman with ill-fitting sweat pants, a mismatched shirt, and hair that obviously hadn't been combed for a while went up to pay. I couldn't help but think to myself "She's a mess." After paying, she returned to her table. When she left a few minutes later with her husband, a Toddler, and twins that looked to be about 6-months old in tow, I thought, "Damn, she looks good."

- Alexis took a horrible excuse for a nap today. At first it looked like it was going to be one of those days when you just struggle through and pray for bedtime to come quickly, but then Alexis decided to turn being tired into an excuse to cuddle. She spent a solid two hours laying around with me happy to just cuddle. If I thought nap deprivation could go that way every time, I would poke the bear every single time she tried to take a nap.

- My Fantasy Football season has come to an end and I am a LOSER. I took 9th out of 13 teams. I would be thoroughly embarrassed about that fact, but careful examination of the games shows that I really do know how to bring out the best in other teams. Six of my losses were against teams that posted their best score of the season when playing me. And we're not talking about improvements of just a few points. For example, Jewels scored no more than 24 points when playing other teams. Against me, she scored 105. If I could bottle those inspirational powers up and sell them, I'd be so rich.

- I want to be excited that the Steelers have made the playoffs, but it's just not working for me. I can't imagine that they'll go very far without Parker.

- A question for some of you Moms: Alexis knows all of the important body parts and has started to ask about a few that I was kind of hoping to pretend didn't exist for a while. I think I would be completely traumatized if my one-year old started spewing the proper terms for *you know*, but I don't want to teach her any cutesy terms (although, va-jay-jay cracks me up like you wouldn't believe). Should I continue ignoring the question (I hate doing that by the way, I try to always answer whatever she asks), or go for it knowing that she will walking around telling everyone what she's packing in those little Gap jeans?

- We had a glimpse of our future earlier today when we were trying to leave to go eat lunch and Alexis decided she didn't want to go. She locked herself in her house and yelled "No" through the windows for fifteen minutes. The kid is in way too much of a hurry to be a teenager. Mind you, she's a teenager that wears the same Dora t-shirt just about every single day.

Snap, Snap, Giggle, Splash

We had a plan. It was a good one, too. Despite the fact that I really should have gone to work today (since you sort of have to be there to quit), Daddy and I both took the day off with full intentions of going all Clark Griswold in the yard. I mean, c'mon, we could have stayed in Indianapolis another day, but came back anyway. For no other reason but to hang pretty little Christmas lights. But NO, why would the universe want to cooperate with that plan? It hasn't cooperated with us for the past two weekends, why start now?

If you've been assaulting your senses with the Monday Night football game* then you might have an inkling of what has been going on in Pittsburgh all day. Heinz Field isn't the only place that has gotten so much rain that I fully expect to see Noah's Ark come floating through any second. Oh no, our yard is flooded like nothing I have seen since Hurricane Ivan wreaked havoc in this area. There's something about electricity, water, ladders, and roofs that don't seem to quite add up to safe, so we were blocked once again from hanging the lights. I am not amused. At this point I need some really cold weather to freeze the ground. Otherwise, I'm going to have to go mudding.

The only productive things to happen all day is that we managed to finish some Christmas shopping, I wrapped a bunch of presents, and Alexis discovered the joy that is dancing on bubble wrap.



*Note to ESPN--Would you please find some half decent announcers? Please? I have had to mute the TV to prevent my ears from bleeding any more than they already have. Oh, and Tony--if you are trying to be funny, you are failing miserably. SHOOSH!

Randomness

- I would like to personally thank the Steelers for their outstanding performance today. When games go like the one last week, Alexis' vocabulary ends up expanded in ways that are less than desirable. And just to be clear, I'm not the one that yells at the TV during games. I suspect that the coaches and players can't actually hear the people in their living rooms, so I save my energy for yelling at my husband when he teaches our daughter to yell "stupid" at the top of her lungs. Not that he can hear me either, but I like to try.

- I got my butt handed to me in Fantasy Football this week. Last week I lost by one point. If my team doesn't get its act together real soon, I may not make the playoffs. Trust me when I say that would be bad for all of us. I MUST make the playoffs.

- One of these days I will learn that Wal-Mart is an evil place, not at all worth the few pennies we may save by going there. Today's reminder came in the form of a woman in one of the motorized cart things. I'm pretty sure her legs worked just fine, she was just feeling lazy. And mean. She kept yelling at people for being in her way. I wouldn't have known that it was a habitual kind of thing except for the fact that she wouldn't get the you-know-what out of my way. Stopping in the middle of aisle with the motorized cart turned sideways? BLOCKS THE WHOLE FREAKIN' AISLE and thereby forces me to listen to you yell at everyone else for six whole aisles. Would it be wrong if I taught Alexis to yell "Hypocrite" at the top of her lungs?

- Alexis never, ever eats alone. Not even if she's munching on sweet potato sticks and tomato soup.

Random Strikes Again

* There's some scary stuff going on over at Looky, Daddy! He happens to be one of my favoritest bloggers and Kathryn never fails to make for the funny, so pop over and wish the whole family the best.

* When Alexis asked to go to sleep at 8:00 tonight, I thought it would be a good idea to try to stretch it out to 8:30 or 9:00. I was so, so very wrong. I may never get to sleep past 6:00 am.

* I finished my very first knitting project today. It was supposed to be for Alexis, but she wants nothing to do with it:



Oh well, Meg is always willing to humor me:



Even Jasmine is more cooperative:



Next up (and this time Alexis better wear it--I don't think she and Meg wear the same size sweater):



* There's a very good chance that I will be getting my THIRD top score trophy in my Fantasy League Tuesday morning. I just need Burress to have a half-decent game tomorrow. It only took until 4:00 today for me to have officially beaten my opponent of the week, so that kind of sucked some of the fun out of it. I prefer a close game. A close game where I crush my competition, but a close game nonetheless.

Random Stuff

* Yesterday's Steelers game? ROCKED. I think I might be starting to like Ben, even if only a little bit.

* Daddy and I? Really freakin' immature. Alexis was walking around all over the place telling us both to sit yesterday. However, it sounded a whole lot like, "Mommy, sh@t" and "Daddy, sh@t." And we giggled. Why, yes, we are a couple of ten-year olds. What of it?

* Wal-Mart employees? Should totally feel stupid putting out all that Christmas and winter crap. It's 90 degrees outside. Save the fuzzy slippers for a week or two. Also? It screws with my head when there is an aisle of school supplies next to the Halloween stuff next to the Christmas junk next to the flowers. Pick a season and go with it, will you?

* Your mission? Cheer like crazy for Tony Romo tonight. I am currently down three points for this week's Fantasy game, but I'm counting on my new boyfriend to make it all better. A victory would be extra sweet since I'm head-to-head with the guy that just bought an English Bulldog based on my breeder/importer recommendation. He's already broke, now let's go for broke loser status. How does it feel to know you're about to beat by a girl, Gandolf's Goons? Probably about the same as it feels to know you just spent over $2500 for a dog that is going to destroy every piece of furniture you own. Have fun with that.

Hi Grumpy, My Name is Grumpy

There's all sorts of grumping going on around here. Grumpy, grump, grump. I'm Grumpy McGrumperton because of football of both the real and fantasy variety. If I had been paired with any of the other eleven teams in my league besides the one I am paired against, I would be kicking some serious butt. But no, I have to be up against Mr. I-Have-Peyton-and-Santonio-and-You-Don't. Boo. Mr. Grumpy Husband is grumpy because he got a wee bit tired of me cheering against Holmes during the Steelers game. All I was trying to say was that Roethlisberger should throw it to any of the other players on the team. Just not Holmes. I wanted the Steelers to win, just not at the expense of my fantasy team. People, you have to have to think these things through all the way.

Also, there's much grumpy, grump, grump about the Steelers loss.

Before the Steelers managed to get us all grumpy, we spent the day cleaning the garage and putting out a few Halloween decorations. When I say "we" in reference to the garage, there might be a mouse in my pocket because I had absolutely nothing to do with it. But I also am not responsible for the Sanford and Son state that it was in. Me=organized. Husband=shove it where it will fit. (Shhhhuuuush with your "It's your Christmas crap that's taking over the house." I don't want to hear it.)

I have decided to embrace the fact that is apparently fall already and will be spending my week erecting a graveyard in the front yard, complete with lots of ghosts and ghouls. The neighborhood association will then promptly mail me my award for best decorations and I will promptly turn my attention to making it look like Clark Griswold lives here. Then I'll get another award and before you know it, Alexis and I will be collecting our birthday presents.

Speaking of birthdays, Alexis can expect one less Dora gift when her time comes. While I appreciate that she cleaned up the milk she spilled without having to be asked, using one's Terrible Towel to do the cleaning is a definite DON'T.

Because I Know You Care (Or Do You?)

I totally choked this week. Just call my Chokey McChokerton because I CHOKED. I had the points to win my Fantasy Football game this week, but I had the players with those points on my bench. On the bench they are about as useful to me as that baby bottle sterilizer I never took out of its box (gift receipts could be your friend, people, I swear). I would like to take 100% of the blame for the error of my ways, but I can't. I have to share the blame with the entire state of New York because apparently you people there don't care about football. What the heck is that?

Burress was "questionable" all week because of an ankle injury. Even though I'm a clueless girl, I know enough to bench a player that isn't going to play. But "questionable" means that it's 50/50 that the player will play (just in case you weren't wise to the lingo). Every team uses the lingo a little bit differently. Back in the day, if Plex was "questionable" under Cowher, I would have bet my favorite New Kids on the Block CD that he was going to play. And if I had any doubt, all I would have had to do is turn on the TV game day. Somebody would have been able to tell me what he ate for dinner the prior night and how many times he had gone to the bathroom so far that morning and they DEFINITELY would have been able to tell me if he was going to play.

I have no clue what "questionable" means in New York, so I asked Dr. Google. He didn't know. Neither did any of the news websites or blogs that I asked. All anybody wanted to talk about was that "baseball" thing. I don't understand that "baseball" thing. At all. In fact, that particular sport is dead to me. I just wanted to know if Plex was walking with a limp or not. And I couldn't find out anything other than "questionable with an ankle injury."

People of New York, that doesn't help me. You must be able to enlighten me with useful details. For example, when he drives his big, ugly pickup truck around town, is he hitting the gas with his left foot or his right foot? When he was chasing the strippers around the bar the prior night, was he using a pimp daddy cane? How about, is he standing on the field in his uniform ten minutes before the game? THAT would be helpful. Plex on the bench is like Plex when he was a Steeler. A complete waste of space.

I am not the One that Said It

I hate the color pink. No, really, I do. I have hated it for years. In fact, I have hated pink since that year I went to band camp and returned to discover that my Mom had painted my room Pepto Bismol pink while I was gone. You will not find a single article of pink clothing in my closet. It looks fine on other people, but I ain't havin' it. I won't even wear pink underwear I loathe it so much.

My hate affair with pink is pretty much public knowledge. We didn't know we were having a girl until after the fact, so I was fortunate to not have been bombarded at the baby shower with it (but good grief, if I ever see something with a yellow rubber ducky on it again, I'm going to chuck it out the window so fast it's going to break the sound barrier). Gifts that we received after Alexis' birth were decidedly devoid of pink. For that, I really love our families. Clearly, they listen and understand my little diversion.

However, as time passed by and Alexis got bigger, it became more and more difficult to restrict her wardrobe choices to everything but pink. I guess the fashion powers that be think if you have a little girl, she MUST wear pink. It's The Law. So one day, I finally gave in. We've sprinkled some pink into her life here and there and, fortunately, all survived.

What we haven't done is take the girliness to an exceedingly high level. There is no pink just for the sake of pink and frilly is banned from entering our home. Not only that, but there are some things that are just plain sacrilegious. For example, a pink Steelers jersey will not enter this house for as long as I have my trusty pink Steelers jersey detector set up at our front door. So every Sunday, Alexis wears her super-rockin' black and gold Ward jersey, just the way The Gods of Football intended. I guess only boys are supposed to wear such gear, because the kid gets mistaken for a boy EVERY SINGLE time. It doesn't much bother me, but Daddy gets outright annoyed. As evidenced by this little exchange that took place just this past Sunday--

McD's employee: "That little guy looks like he's going to be a linebacker some day."

Daddy: "Maybe. If she ever grows a penis."