A "Bol" Game

One Saturday evening in January. Arlington, VA.

Look Teta, it's a bol game.

I think I will sit hear and watch. 

Hmm. I wonder what they are doing. 

Will he? Will he?

GOAL! They scored!!!

I will drink to that!

Yum. Yum.

Mai. Mai.

Watching intently. Hanging on to my drink. 

Do not disturb.

The stakes are high. 

Darn it. He missed.

I guess I will have another drink. 

What?!?!? Does this look strange to you?!?!

Me on a bar stool, watching T.V., with a water cup in my hand?

Considering Mama's position on screens, it sure does. 

I can assure you, though, Mama knows.

Actually, it was her idea.

She had to get me off the restaurant floor,

and up from underneath the table,

and away from the salt shaker.

She had to stop me from banging on the table,

and throwing the utensils on the ground,

and dispersing the sugar packets all over the place.

She had to keep me quiet, 

contained, 

content.

She had to keep us from getting kicked out,

and her from leaving an insane tip.

And to her defense. I had already eaten all my dinner.

This was just that so she can finish hers!

I love my Mama.