Make one bacon-flavored, and I might buy it
/Dear America,
WTF?
Sincerely,
Me.
Dear America,
WTF?
Sincerely,
Me.
Critter: Mom, I had a squishy orange in my backpack from lunch
Bride: did you eat it?
Critter: No, I tried to blow it up.
Bride: Oh, were you successful?
Critter: No. I used the bike pump and the air just hisses out.
I think I teared up a bit. Those are my genes showing through right there. But still. Probably time to hide the lighter fluid.
...
Bride: Have you seen my shoes? I need to go poop.
Me: I do not live in a world where I can make those two things relate to one another.
...
Bride: I just caught your four year old son endlessly singing the theme to New Girl. He knows all the words.
Me: In his defense: that Zooey Deschanel is way hotter than her sister Emily.
My Bride: Did I ever tell you that I don't like to touch milk?
Me: You mean "share."
My Bride: What?
Me: You don't like to share milk. Even with your children. Which is weird, and kind of selfish. But we accept you anyay.
My Bride: No. I mean, yes: sharing milk is gross. But I don't like to touch milk.
Me: Why would you need to touch milk? When does this come up?
My Bride: Also, I don't like ketchup except when it's on things.
Me: What are we talking about? When would you have ketchup by itself?
My Bride: It feels icky. And then my hands smell like ketchup. Or milk.
Me: I'm lost.
My Bride: Try to keep up. This is the same reason I only eat watermelon with a fork, after it's been cut up.
Me: We've been married for almost 18 years. And you are still a mystery.
My Bride: I'm totally normal.
Geek. Amateur homesteader. Enthusiastic cook. Occasional doodler. Avid eater of food, Father. Bad banjo player. .
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