free to be

Editors note:

it seems I was mistaken. Last night, as we watched the Colts play, something happened to my husband. It started with some loud shouts of disgust during the first 1/2 of the game. He was not in a good mood. No love for wifey; not at all amused by her ploys to get his attention. And then it happened somewhere at the beginning of the second half. Kyle got the crazy eyes that I've seen in the men of my family while growing up. He was on his feet, he was yelling at the boys; he was cheering, pacing, complaining of 'tension in his neck and shoulders'.

And then, the heavens opened up, God smiled down--the Colts had it in the bag-they were officially super bowl bound! Kyle had been standing for the last 3 minutes of the game but then to my amusement, he started a victory dance I didn't know he had in him. There he was, shaking his rear end at the TV, clapping and carrying on like you wouldn't believe.

My heart swelled with pride.
The Roehrig clan's got nothing on him.