Well played, Drew Brees

Ah, Monday: it's you again.

Today I've got a to-do list on the scale of I-95. I need to do all of my weekend chores today, since we were up in North Carolina at Baby Bennie's birthday party [post to come] this weekend.  My to-do list includes ironing all of Lee's non-iron shirts. What have I gotten myself into? I'll have to find a very special Pandora station to get me through it. Any suggestions?

But I'm not really neglecting my to-do list just to tell you about my to-do list.  Really, I just couldn't resist commenting on one aspect of the Super Bowl.

If you know me at all, you know that football is not my thing. I like the tailgates, but I've been known to "watch" an entire football game and not be able to recall a single thing that happened. It's not that I don't understand it (I do, mostly); it's just that I don't care that much.

Last night, I actually took a lil nap in the middle of the game, but luckily I woke up just in time to see the Saints win. 

Now if you had put a gun to my head before last night, I wouldn't have been able to tell you the name of the Saints' quarterback. And I'm certainly not going to jump on the Saints' bandwagon now that they are Super Bowl champions.

However, this is one of the most touching scenes I've seen on TV in a long time.

 

Leave it to me to make football about babies.  But really. He was holding his baby and talking to him [not that his baby could hear him, thanks to the headphones, but still] and kissing him and crying. 

Do all winning quarterbacks do this, and I've just never noticed? Because I didn't know Drew Brees's name before last night, but I think it's going to be a while before I forget it.