The house always wins

Or at least, it won this time. And by the house, I mean me.

I'll explain. All this snow nearly obscured the fact that two weeks ago was the high holy day of football. Also, advertising.

And because I believe that all small children should be taught to gamble, Samson and I placed a friendly wager on the outcome of the game. He picked the Colts, and I chose the Saints. [Those of you wondering if I gave him points are wildly overestimating my abilities as both a gambler and someone with even a baseline ability to do math.]

At stake was this: Winner gets to choose a "victory" dinner; loser does laundry. Since Samson is always trying to direct the former, and I always do the latter anyway, he figured it was probably a safe bet to take.

He didn't make it past halftime, which was just as well, as I would have had a hard time explaining the deep look of sorrow that I had while watching the Who as dinner theater.

Anyway, the kid has class. When I woke him the next morning and gave him the news, he offered me a high five and congratulated me on winning the bet. And he was totally up for getting on a step stool and throwing in some laundry.

I'm still working on a victory dinner choice. His pick was milkshakes and brownies, which actually sounds kind of awesome, but we may need to sneak a vegetable in there somewhere...