Last week I spent a not inconsiderable amount of time convincing Sylvie to go to the Patriots game with me on Sunday. The forecast was ideal, the game would (I thought!) be uneventful... it seemed a good opportunity to introduce her to football and possibly establish an annual father/daughter tradition. With some urging, I suspect, from her mother, she reluctantly agreed.
Flash forward to Sunday morning, as I literally said, "Sylvie, get on your shoes, it's time to go!" and went to my ticket stash, only to discover... I didn't actually have tickets to Sunday's game! Of course as soon as I realized that I remembered trading them away for a double-up on the Atlanta game in a few weeks. But man!
Of course Sylvie, honest as ever, readily admitted that she never actually wanted to go in the first place. We went to C&L Frosty instead, and Syl could not have been happier.
A little bonus silver lining: had we gone, Syl would almost certainly have talked me in to a first ever violation of my "no leaving until the whistle" rule, and I would have missed the best Pats comeback since, er, the Super Bowl (sorry, Browns fans). So all's well that ends well.
Random addendum: it is good luck to have a toad infestation?
