Apples Don't Fall Far From the Purple Tree

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh, football season, which brings out the worst in people, amid the rivalries.
F’rinstance, I learned a long time ago not to call son Brendan on Sundays, because he doesn’t answer the phone during football games. (If he happens to call ME, I know it’s a commercial break.) He’s a Vikings fan, with a fondness for da Bears, as well.
Witness this photo, grabbed from a TV screen lo those many years ago when he cheered a Vikings score back in Randy Moss’ daze. Speaking of, Moss tossed him a football after scoring lo, those many years ago.
Don't ask ME to explain the turban; I have NO idea. Maybe he was wearing it in hopes of predicting that Brett Favre someday would turn his back on the Packers, after retiring, then playing for the Jets, then retiring, then playing for the Vikings, then retiring, then returning to the Vikings.
I don't want to get into that scenario, as my Cheesehead bride, Kate, still is among Packer fans who love to hate Favre to this day for going to their top rival. (Their favorite saying: "We'll never forget you, Brent.")
Back on point then: Here's evidence that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree in Brendan's household. Just got this cyber photo from Brendan of his firstborn, Avery, (OBVIOUSLY, during a commercial):

I texted this message back, although it displayed my lack of texting prowess: “I think it’s adorable. Kate sex it’s child abuse!”
To which Brendan replied: “Tell Kate Avery says the Packers suck… his first words! We’re giving him purple breast milk Thursday!”
Now, I’ve gotta say that would be spouse abuse. Like, how many blueberries will he make Erica eat to turn her milk purple?
Meanwhile, my bride is rolling on the floor (LHAO, as they say in the text world), saying, “Did you SEE what you texted?”
OOPS, NOW I see it. Why do they put the x and the z so close together? (Oddly enough, neither Brendan nor I had noticed the typo; too much testosterone flowing to the football quadrant of the brain rather than the sexual, I suppose.)
"Honey, You’re an EDITOR,” she admonished.
Well, I’m gonna wrap this up now before it gets even worse. After all, we’ve got a case of child abuse and two cases of spouse abuse.
Personally, I don’t have any football allegiances; well, OK, I’ll confess: I don’t care who wins, as long as somebody knocks the snot out of Notre Dame whenever possible. Which, of course, leaves me disappointed this weekend, with the Fighting Irish winning their season opener against Purdue. I haven't cried so much since "Rudy."


And I hadn't cried THAT much since "Brian's Song," which has reduced men far stronger than I to tears, so that's no shame.