Football fantasy

I got the chance to see the Boy in action at school today - parents were invited into class as part of American Education Week -though I didn't exactly "see" him as the class was taking place in a Starlab, an inflatable planetarium set up in the gym, and it was pitch dark in there.

In any case, much as I would like to observe how my son really gets on day-to-day at school, I know that my very presence in the room means he doesn't behave as he normally would without me there.  It's a lot like quantum physics, Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle - but obviously, you knew that.

Nah, me neither.  I don't speak physics.  Or football (soccer if you'd rather).  The Man was very happy the other evening when one of the Girl's schoolfriends was dropped off at the house by her dad, who is British like us.  They were soon chatting away about the Premier League, and I could only sit there looking a bit vague, like you do when two foreign friends forget you're with them and drop into their native tongue.

I don't mind that the Man is into things, like football, that I can't even be bothered to understand.  To be honest I used to be a bit snooty about football fans, though a little research taught me that fans could also be literate (Nick Hornby, you have a lot to answer for).  I daresay I could learn to love the beautiful game if I tried - maybe I'll put my mind to it while the Man's busy stitching me a quilt.

Hmm.  Just ain't gonna happen, is it?