I hate Fantasy Football. Hate it with a white-hot passion that I normally reserve for the Kardashians and use of the word “invaluable.” Really, really hate it.
There is no faster way to ruin a football game than by watching it with someone who has a Fantasy Football team. “Who do you hope wins” becomes a loaded question and the answer is something like, “Well, Tom Brady is my quarterback but this other guy on the other team (sorry, the only player I know by name is Tom Brady) is my tight end, so on this play I want….. My eyes glaze over and I stay focused on Tom, hoping he leads his team to victory and celebrates by ripping off his shirt à la Brandi Chastain in the ’99 World Cup soccer game. But I digress. We were talking about how much I detest Fantasy Football.
Therefore, given my feelings on the subject, imagine my reaction when my husband told me that he wanted to join a father/kid Fantasy Football league with our seven-year-old son this year.
I said go for it — because as much as I hate Fantasy Football, I love the idea of our son having a special thing to do with dad.
It is so easy to fall into the trap of parenting both kids as one unit. Sports, playdates, even some Christmas gifts are all easier to manage if the kids are doing the same thing. But every once in a while it is important, not to mention fun, to take the time to enjoy each kid as an individual.
So when my husband and son set up the computer in the living room and scattered pages upon pages of scouting reports over our glass coffee table in preparation for selecting their team, I ignored the chaos and reminded myself that they were bonding. And when they made Michael Vick their starting quarterback, rejecting my suggestion of not drafting anyone who has either spent time in jail or beaten up a ladyfriend, I simply shrugged and walked away.
In fact, I walked straight into the kitchen where I enjoyed a little culinary bonding with my daughter by making a peach pie together. We followed Deb’s recipe at Smitten Kitchen and it turned out pretty awesome for a first attempt. We talked, laughed and made a huge mess, while in the next room the guys talked, laughed and made a medium mess. The time we spent split into pairs doing our special projects was – dare I say – invaluable. Nope, I may be softening on Fantasy Football, but I still hate that word. Baby steps…