The Weaning Process
Fortunately for me, I had a head start. My wife began to wean me off of football before my daughter was ever born. She never quite embraced my Sunday, nine-hour-long, Barcalounger marathons in front of the living room electronic grid-iron. So after several negotiations, I agreed to cut back—slowly, mind you—to one game per Sunday. But Monday night football was, of course, off limits.
Then after my daughter was born, more drastic cuts were necessary. I'd watch the last quarter of two games Sunday and the second half of Monday night. But that was two seasons ago, when my daughter was still crawling.
This season began when my daughter was 22 months old. She's 2 now, and about as mobile and destructive as any NFL running back. As a result, I pretty much wrote off the regular season. I would sneak in a quarter here or there, but for the most part, I decided there would be more time in the yard on Sundays kicking around her soccer ball, more time coloring on the rug, more time gluing shapes onto construction paper, and less time glued to the games.
During the playoffs, however, even the most devoted fathers among us are bound to give in to the cravings associated with a Sunday battle over a spot at the "big dance" the first week of February. First, let me say to you that there is a way to be there for the action and be there for your toddler.