So, the Bears played the Saints yesterday, and I'm forced to know this because people around me talk about things like this, and I find myself hoping that the Bears win, but please don't make me watch the game because I just don't get it, and I would really rather wash the dishes, wipe a toddler bottom or clean up cat barf.
Still, I'm glad they won. Not ecstatic, not consumed with glee, just glad, and then, only just a little.
Of course, I didn't watch the game. Instead, we went out for a late lunch and then stopped at Home Depot and Target for a few things. It was dead. It was dead like Thankgiving Day or like Florida in the middle of a Hurricane warning. There were only a few people out! I found myself feeling sorry for the people who had to work and didn't get to stay home and watch the game. I guess somewhere in my heart of hearts, I feel like native Chicago-landers should have gotten to take the day off so they could watch da Bears.
So, with so few people out and about on game day, Daddy and I couldn't help but comment on it. Trevor wanted to know more about "the game" to which we referred. I told him the Bears were playing the Saints, and if they won, they would go to the Superbowl.
"Real Bears are playing a game?" he asked.
He definitely wanted to know more about this game. I meant to turn it on as soon as we got home so that he could see what we were taking about, but then, I had dishes to wash, bottoms to wipe and cat barf to clean up... (and it simply slipped my mind).