Corrupting Our Nation's Youth

This is how my Sunday went. First, I chased my 2-1/2 year-old grandson around the house—living room to hallway to kitchen to dining room back to living room. Then, after three or four times around, he’d say, “No, I chase you.” And he did. Then I’d chase him; he’d chase me; Michele read him a few books; we watched “Paw Patrol” (don’t ask); and we ate lunch. After he shared his pretzels with me, we threw a little football back and forth. At this point, he’s better at throwing then catching. Next, he took the football to the far end of the room and ran into me, each time shouting, “Touchdown!” After nine or so touchdowns, he hit me and let out, “Packers win!” I was heartbroken. When his parents came home, I let the father know a child that small doesn’t really know what he’s saying; you blame the parent. To which the parent replied, “The Bears beating the Lions helped the Packers. Thanks.” And it was time to go home.