I have this obsession with the Olympics. I won't even call it minor.
It's already started.
Trials are going on now, and I'm hooked. Once the games actually start, there is nothing else ever on the TV.
Seriously, don't touch the remote.
From the first words of the opening ceremonies all the way clear through to the last country in the closing ones, I just can't get enough of it.
I will watch any sport too. They could have competitive knitting and I'd watch it.
I love the stories, especially the underdogs from nations that don't have enough money for fancy training facilities.
I was talking to a friend about this yesterday, when I confessed just how bad it is.
My kids also have my crazy. I've passed it down.
When Aidan was a baby, I took him to see the torch as it ran through San Diego for the 2002 Winter Olympics. He had no idea why we were there, he was more concerned with chewing on his hands. But he was there. Oh, he was there.
Ever since then, my kids have been encouraged to love this spectacle as much as I do. We make torches and signs for the opening ceremonies every time, have our own parade. During the last Winter Olympics, they made medals too.
The Olympics were on the TV in the hospital when I was in labor with AJ. I wasn't about to miss a thing.
Ally is completely obsessed with swimming, and has a huge crush on Michael Phelps. When he was in the Beijing games, she was only three, but she was hooked. She swooned over him, yelled at the TV every time he raced, dressed up in cheerleader outfits to root for him. She'd stand and put her hand over her heart every time he won a medal.
We went to the grocery store one day and she saw a display of cereal boxes emblazoned with his picture. She hugged the boxes and begged for one of her very own.
Last night, she wrote this.
Go Team USA. Let's do this thing.
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