Finn now opts to watch football with Mike and I, rather than watch a kid-show with the girls on Sundays. It must be some genetic specific desire that begins at such an early age, a desire that I don't really have, I just want to hang out with Mike! It's so cute to see him glean an understanding of the game and learn the teams that he is supposed to hate (Dallas) and love (the Steelers), based on his father's opinions. Even that gets handed down, I suppose.
On Sunday, when we were all jet-lagged from our 3 AM rising to catch a plane, Finn was beyond exhausted. He wasn't crabby or anything, just constantly finding hilarious ways to let us know that we had pushed him beyond his five year old limits. He kept falling down randomly, or running into things, even doing this sort of trance-like dance out of the blue. But the best thing he did, twice, was to scream out game-related excitement or frustration about the "Pit Stain Steelers." Even after our chuckles and corrections, he even went so far as to correct his sister: "That's not the Bears Riley, that's the Pit Stain Steelers!"
Considering that's one of the teams he's supposed to like, I wonder what Pittsburgh would think of their new nickname?
He passed out on the couch at 6:30.