It had been a rough game. A 19-11 loss. My 10-year-old son turned to me with a plea, “Can we go to Dairy Queen?” Yes of course my boy, let’s go.

My son quickly placed his order. The clerk looked up. “Anything else?” Nope.

Surprised, my boy said, “You’re not getting anything?” “Nope,” I said, “I’m going home to drink a beer.”

At first somewhat shocked, my son smiled. He knew the drill. My diet depends on winning.