Four of the most powerful words on earth.
They have the power not only to turn grown men into little boys, but to turn wives into widows at the push of a button.
Unfortunately for me, I not only have a hockey obsessed husband, my sweet 7 year old son has come down with the disease as well. (I question whether this has anything to do with the fact that his father was watching playoffs whilst I was painfully labouring him?)
What it's like at the Graham house during playoff season:
My TV is no longer for me or Shelby. The timer is set for games on a daily basis. Good bye “Dancing With the Stars”, “American Idol”, or CSI. Even when the game isn’t on, some horrible show like “Pardon the Interruption” or “Off the Record” is. It’s excruciating.
The girls are not allowed in the living room unless we promise to be silent. Isn’t hockey supposed to be a visual game? Why are THEY allowed to yell like mentally deranged apes??
Our dinner table is no longer being used. We have set the TV tables up semi-permanently in the living room. Our children drink from their lucky hockey mugs every meal.
I fully believe Barry would be more attracted to me if I came out in a canary yellow suit, a fruit adorned tie, and a dog named Blue, rather than some sexy lacy lingerie.
My son has to mask his growing love for Boston Bruins right now as they are playing the Canadiens. If you know Barry, you know that he is a member of the Church of Latter Day Habs. So that would mean we would have to put poor Oscar up for adoption. Poor, poor, Oscar. He’s not even allowed to be true to himself!
Oscar has learned what “drinkability” means and has asked me to go get him a “Bud Lite” at snack time.
Behind our couch are two small nets, 2 sticks, street goalie equipment and a ball. During intermissions or non-hockey shows, Barry and Oscar act as their favourite players and hammer the ball at each other, my bay window, my piano, and my picture frames.
I hear chants of “Ole Ole Ole Ole Ole Ole Ole” continuously throughout the day. The sing it when you least expect it, and least want to hear it. It is a most dreaded sound in this house.
I am secretly praying that the Montreal Canadiens get eliminated tonight, so that I get a little relief. If not, someone send help. PLEASE.
