No, I have not been watching the Georgia Tech v. Iowa game.

The game is on as my wife is watching.  But I am not watching.

The volume is …more than a whisper.  But I am not listening.

My wife is openly mocking the television.   But I am not participating.

I have no way of knowing that GT is currently losing 17 – 7 with just under 12 minutes to go in the fourth.  Because I…am not…involved.

Georgia Tech:  stealing defeat from the jaws of victory and glory from the grasp of ignominy since I’ve been paying attention to football.

As many parents have discovered, there’s a point in time (usually sometime in the evening before/during/after the bedtime rituals have begun) where you find your voice rising with small flecks of anger and frustration embedded in the cold iron of your parenting.  At the same time, you’re desperately trying to suppress a bubbling laughter as a small nude terrorist who happens to be related to you by blood crosses his or her arms and sticks out their bottom lip in defiance.

It’s an interesting point of inflection.