Some of the children at church were talking about the Super Bowl yesterday.  One of the mothers asked a young boy if he’d be having anything special to eat at his house.  He replied “lots of dinners.”

I couldn’t help but smile.  Call it tapas, dim sum, or Super Bowl snacks; call it “lots of dinners.”  Only a child can see right through the spelling errors and vocal awkwardness that is the “hors d’oeuvre.”

Handy and I had “lots of dinners” on Sunday night.  We didn’t feel like cooking so we had “poor man’s pate” and Swiss cheese on crackers, then we split a Subway sandwich.  I picked up a few cans of a local apple beverage to toast the Patriot’s victory.

I don’t know why I’ve never bought Ricker’s sparkling cider before.  It’s delicious.  And the gingham background on the can appeals to my sense of order in spite of the goofy smiling apple.  I’ll try to remember to keep some on hand for one of those days when we’re having lots of dinners.

Like more than 100 million Tee Vee viewers last night, Handy and I watched the Super Bowl.  Whatever Tee Vee equipment Handy has is amazing; we fast forwarded through almost all the commercials.  The ones we did decide to watch were mostly horrible and mock-worthy.  (Was that a woodchuck at the end of the Skittles commercial in the first quarter?  The new knowledge of the woodchuck’s snack palate will help this spring.)

We ate our little dinners.

The game was discouraging and perilous and I admit I fell anxiously asleep during the half-time entertainment.  The third quarter passed fitfully in front of my slumber-dusted eyes.  At some point during the fourth quarter I realized the incredible deficit had been reduced to 8 points.

Was I dreaming?

I sleepwalked to the front door this morning and grabbed the local paper.  No, there he is on the front page of the paper, with his strong square jaw and his right hand raising the Lombardi trophy.  Underneath the sweat and the perfectly straight white teeth, he is literally Tom Brady.

Lots more dinners, please.