Sunday, November 15, 2009

"I Wanna be a Cowboy. . ."

(Okay, honestly, I want to be a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader, but I'm pretty sure that's not going to happen. . .unless they're looking for middle-aged moms with zero dance experience, zero flexibility, and jiggly thighs. Don't think they are.)

However, Mason really does want to be a member of the Dallas Cowboys. He regularly tells us he's going to "Dallas Cowboys College" rather than the suggested Purdue or Texas A&M. I hope he does, indeed, get accepted to that prestigious college. That would solve any lingering fears I have about our retirement funds.

Wow, I'm all over the place.

Here's the point of this post. . .Rip scored four fabulous tickets to the Cowboys game; we took my dad and Mason, and had a blast. For one quarter. Then Mason started climbing on our laps, playing on the floor, and asking for a foam finger. And begging us to play "Rock, Paper, Scissors" instead of watching the game. His "fun-meter" maxed out, I guess. We left just before halftime, but were all so impressed by the new stadium.

Everything was amazing. . .soft cushy seats, a 50 yard long television screen, Tony Romo, the shops and food venues, and watching Mason's first NFL experience. And, of course, the cheerleaders.

(So, if I can't be a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader, at least I can get an answer to this very pressing question: "How do they flip their long, fabulous hair around like that, and have it still look amazing? What's the trick? Seriously?")