Dad's in charge

An e-mail from Pat sent Nov. 6, 2007
Subject: Football god

Your son has a thunder bolt for an arm. He has a gift from the football gods. He has been running across the living room throwing a Nerf ball to me. He has thrown tight passes that have hit me in the chest every time. Before we go any further, I know that we are not supposed to play football in the house. You're at work, I am here, get over it. Rules are different when you're at work, and the girls and I can blame Conner if anything breaks. He has thrown passes left while running right and vice versa. Notre Dame called a little bit ago and needs your son ASAP. For God's sake, they are 1-8.
There is one drawback, though. He cannot catch to save his life. I have tried everything. I even stood a foot from him and lightly tossed the ball to him and it hit him in the head. His hands didn't even move. Abbey even tried to help, and she thinks it is hopeless. When he does get a hand on it, it's like he has bricks in his hands. He even dropped the ball when I snapped it to him. The shotgun formation is definitely out of the question for now. He is going to have to learn the fine art of fumble recovery. As much as it pains me, Notre Dame will have to wait until he is actually 18.
On another note, Maggie is crying because she gets to watch the movie that is on. I told her that it was her turn to pick the show on TV. She is crying because she seems to think that Conner is going to change the channel to Diego. This could actually happen if we knew where the DVR remote was.