Super Sunday

Today is football, Super Sunday.
Forget trips out at least ‘til Monday.
Unless you plan to go alone,
As hubby will be staying home.

There’s no point nagging, he won’t hear.
Engrossed with primal instincts clear.
Battle lines drawn he settles down,
To watch with beer and worried frown.

And I have learned from Sundays past,
To help by cooking dinner fast.
Half time is short and he can’t miss,
A moment of such sporting bliss.