Dad sat on the couch, remote in hand, ready to watch Monday Night Football. He donned a pair of flannel stretchy pants and a t-shirt with gravy stains. Beef, from what I could tell.

He looked very comfortable. Which made me uncomfortable.

So I peed on his parade of lethargy by demanding constant attention from kickoff through the third quarter.

When I was done, Dad was exhausted and fell asleep, missing the end of the game. And I hear it was quite exciting.

Wanna know who won?

I did.