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When I married Bryan I celebrated the fact that he liked 'cool' sports like UFC and martial arts - things I might be able to take a faint interest in or at least not be completely bored to death by.
Little did I know, he's very Scottish. He likes snooker. Which makes me snookered when the World Championships are on. Because he takes pleasure from this snore fest - can you believe he has such audacity? ;).
He also likes to bore me with the minutiae of the game. Oh, darling, I'll say, I quite frankly don't give a damn. Except, you know, with more rude words inserted in there. Even after I say I don't care he keeps telling me stuff about the game; whose winning, what's going on, the ethnicity of the referee (yep, really) and pretty much anything goes. I've given up telling him I don't care because he'll tell me useless information anyway - whether I want to hear it or not.
Today, as I was preparing to head out the door, I spotted this. A multi-tasking husband applying sun cream to our toddler. Distracted a little by the snooker, index finger raised and ready to spread the cream but on edge about whatever he was watching on the TV. And Roman's little face of determination; that look that says 'give me the cream, would you. I'll apply it myself!' ;).
