The best trophies are those you can eat

Ours is not an athletic family.  Well.....that's not entirely true, so let me start again.  I come from a very athletic family.  My mother and sister are accomplished golfers and tennis players, and my wife still holds the record for some run mete at her high school.  But I find trouble getting a few molecules of air between my feet and the ground when I attempt to jump.  Some of my children unfortunately imitate me in this way, although none of them got my near-sightedness, asthma, bad knees, or gout.

At a dinner last night with friends, they all started talking about which of their kids were going to state in baseball and who was trying out for varsity basketball and who was starting on the football team, when I blurted out that my youngest boy won a gigantic bucket of cheese balls at tennis camp for being "most improved".  They all stared at me for a minute, then resumed their conversation.  I used to win "most improved" at tennis camp as well.  It's a euphemism for "we have to give him something so how about most improved."  

I was so proud of him.  You can see that he's a modest boy, choosing not to lord his good fortune over everybody and shying away from the camera.  But I was so excited I couldn't help snapping this shot of him in his glory.  I mean, while other children are winning regular old boring ribbons and trophies, my boy got to bring home a trophy that has a huge bucket of cheese puffs glued to it -- the largest bucket of cheese puffs I've ever seen.  It's the trophy that keeps on giving.  I mean, look at it.  It's HUGE.  

We put the trophy/bucket of cheese balls on the coffee table and that night I accidentally ate half of it while watching a movie. They are very, very delicious.  How can something with zero nutritional value and so much air in them pack in so much cheesy-icious taste?  I didn't realize I had eaten half of it until it happened.  The excitement of "The Remains of the Day" -- a period movie where the action is limited to a butler who almost, but doesn't, make a move on a cook  --  must have distracted me.  Damn you, Emma Thompson!  Damn your sexy upper-class accent and your work-a-day frock!

I knew I'd be in trouble, so I hinted that I had accidentally knocked the bucket over and the cheese puffs, being round, rolled all over the floor as our dog Chica gobbled them up before I could get them back into the bucket.  Since Chica doesn't speak english (except to me in the hot tub after margs), she was unable to rat me out, although her eyes were very convicting as she took the blame.  I can't even look at her I'm so ashamed.  But the explanation satisfied Lulu until she noticed my fingers were orange.  Although dogs can't laugh, I thought I heard Chica chuckle with satisfaction.

Next week the "most improved" award is a tube of mini-Reeses peanut butter cups.  You know who I'm rooting for.  Que up "Sense and Sensibility."