How Monday Became Pizza Night

Years ago it used to be that Thursday night, with its “Must See TV” and, well, that’s it, but it was enough, was pizza night. When Tricia and I lived in Seattle, sans kids, we would go online and order a gourmet pizza from a place I had never been. They would deliver right on time and we would drink Redhook and eat BBQ chicken pizza or something without red sauce. Sometimes we even had wine. Hey, it was fancy pizza.

Then we started a family and the shows we loved grew up too. Seinfeld was no more. Friends was no more. Frasier was no more. What was the fourth show? Twenty-two minutes of bathroom break?

Pizza night gradually morphed into Sunday. Somewhere between football, Extreme Makeover: Home Edition and a closet full of Disney DVD’s you would find us on the couch. We started getting pie from a place I could walk to. It was greasier, which was okay, and we covered it in tomato and basil or extra cheese and cloves of garlic. We drank Bass and the occasional Shiraz. The kids drank milk. It was good.

Enter Heroes. Monday night hadn’t felt this good since I spent every single one surrounded by taps and screens cheering on whomever I hated the least in random games of Monday Night Football.

Heroes. The fact that it came on the heels of TiVo didn’t dampen its impact. It may not be watched on time. Hell, I don’t watch anything on time. We like to buffer (let the show get ahead so we can skip commercials- phrase coined by Karl).

Still, Heroes was just one show, and it wasn’t exactly kid-friendly. This season there has been another show, the lead-in if you will. Chuck. It’s smart, sexy and funny. It rounded out the block.

Now Monday is gaining momentum as family night. We’ll watch a little MNF. We’ll play with the boys. Baths will be had. At some point the kids will fade into the night, and Tricia and I are alone with our diet cokes and bottles of water. There was pizza, something cheap and boring that the kids would eat. There would have been laughter and smiles and tired kids telling tired parents that they weren’t, in fact, tired.

At some point we’d be together, on the couch, like it used to be. There would be something to drink and shows we must see. Monday is the new pizza night, and it is the best one yet.

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