CherkyB, Patron of the Arts

MaxieC and I were watching Sunday Night Football last night, as fathers and sons often do. As a father, I know it is my responsibility to pass down to my son the ways of men lest he grow up to one of those men people accuse of "being raised by his mother". Part of this, of course, requires some knowledge of football, and in particular the intricacies of watching it on TV.

[ Closeup of a cheerleader right before we cut to commercial. ]

Me, CherkyB: "Whoa! Check out the ti...uhhh...mmmm... What do we call those?"

MaxieC: "What?"

Me, CherkyB: "You know, the big things here." [makes arthritic gesture with hands]

MaxieC: "You mean the shiny things she was holding in her hands and shaking around?"

Me, CherkyB: "No. Those are pompoms."

MaxieC: "I knooow. You mean the big, fat things on her chest."

Me, CherkyB: "Yes! Those. What do we call those?"

MaxieC: "Deet-deets."

Me, CherkyB: "Yeah. Deet-deets. Did you see what nice deet-deets that cheerleader had?"

MaxieC: [puzzled] "Momma has those."

Me, CherkyB: "[Sigh.] When you're older..."