Where's my beer?

I think Jack is ready for football season. He will join the rest of America, on the couch, in his undies, belly protruding from under a dirty t-shirt, staring at a little talking box for hours on end, getting fatter.

It amazes me at times that he doesn't just get up and go into the kitchen for a cold one, and some more salsa. He looks like such a little man.