To Eamon's Opa and the Redskins: Sorry.
To Uncle Marty and the Eagles: Sorry.
To Julie and the Patriots: Sorry.
To Yin and the Buccaneers: Sorry.
To anyone who hoped that Eamon would adopt a football team different from his father: Sorry.
Last night, I had to read How 'Bout Them Cowboys to Eamon. Twice. It was the only book that he wanted.
"Green eggs and ham?"
"Fox in Socks?"
Pause. Think. Head shake. "No."
"Little Miss Bossy?"
When I finished How 'Bout Them Cowboys the first time, Eamon clapped, grabbed the book, closed it, and then reopened it to the first page. He then stared at me expectantly.
I sighed and read it again. After the last page: clap, grab, reopen, stare.
Only dignity and bedtime stopped me from reading it a third time.