topic: That's Not the Point, i.e. Men Are from Mars...

Michael: My team is losing a must-win game, and in the midst of a gut-wrenching inning, my wife traipses into the room with the baby in her arms. My wife is sweetly singing a goofy little song to the kid. She’s drowning out the ballgame’s announcers, and I tell her so. She’s angry. How rude I am!

…I was in the grocery store the other day when a woman near me received a call on her cell phone. “Oh? Well, that’s great, Honey. So you just had to let me know about this touchdown, huh? That’s terrific. Well, enjoy the game, Dear!”

I thought her tone was patronizing, and she joked with me about the call, telling me, as she grabbed a 64-pack of diapers off the shelf and heaved it into her shopping cart, how crazy her husband is about “those Gators.” She turned to her toddler in the cart and said, “Isn’t that right, Sweet Baby?” The kid giggled a little, and then made some kind of weird, blood-curdling noise. I smiled and headed for the pasta.

I’ve been a bear all through my team’s latest slump. Just the other night I came home very late after attending, of all things, a memorial service. The kitchen was dark. Dinner had been cleaned up and there was nothing waiting for me. I cruised to the couch and turned on the game I’d been missing. My team was down. I was irritated—about the score, about being late to get home and about having missed part of the game--as well as about there being no food ready for me.

“The Gators scored again,” my grocery-store acquaintance said as I opened the door to the frozen ravioli section. She grabbed meat-filled. I went for cheese. She tossed them into her cart, smiling.

I didn’t see her again, but I kept thinking about what a knucklehead her husband was to call his wife about a stupid football game.

One of the things my kids love most is when I come home from the grocery store with something special for them because it’s tangible evidence that they were on my mind even though I was occupied with other things. With their smiling faces in mind, after crossing the last thing off my list, I headed for the candy aisle and grabbed a couple of bags of jellybeans.

“I’ll make you something,” said my wife. “Do you want me to make you something?”

“Forget it,” I said. That’s not the point, I thought.

Anne: On the sports thing, Michael often accuses me of not having any "sports manners." I don't have any, I must admit, and I don't pretend to. I apologize. Not my thing.

On the other issue swimming around in your post, Michael, exactly where was MY special treat from the grocery store that day?