Playing Fussball with My Boy

"Mama"" my eight-year-old son said.  "Will you play fussball with me?"

I thought about all the things I had to do to get ready for Thanksgiving.  Then I looked into my son's big blue eyes.  I figured it wouldn't hurt to spend a little time with him.   "All right," I said.  "But only one game.  I have a ton of stuff to do!"

We went down to the basement where the fussball table was and started playing.  I scored immediately.  I moved my score marker to one point...and so did my son.

"Hey," I said.  "That was my point, not yours!"

He just grinned and set the ball back on the table.  We continued playing.  I scored again.  And again he gave himself a point.

"Bubba, that's not how you play! "

"Yeah, it is Mama!"

I gave him one of my mom looks and continued playing.  This time, he scored.  He moved his point markers up two.

"Wait a minute,"  I said.  "You don't get two points - only one!"

He giggled and set the ball right in front of my goal keeper.  He whacked the ball in, and gave himself two more points.

"Bubba, what kind of game is this?  You're cheating!"

"It's Bubba Fussball and Bubba never loses!"



(The relatives will be descending upon our house tonight, so I will be extremely busy cooking, cleaning, and entertaining. In case I am unable to post in the next few days, I want to wish all of you in the United States who celebrate Thanksgiving a very happy holiday! )