MOP
05-11-2009, 08:42 PM
I love Mustard.
(This is a true story. If you have
children you will probably relate to this father.)
As ham sandwiches go, it was perfection: a thick slab of
ham on a fresh bun with crisp lettuce and plenty of
expensive, light brown, Gourmet Mustard. The corners of my
jaw aching in anticipation, I carried it to the table in our
backyard, picked it up with both hands, but was stopped by
my wife suddenly at my side.
'Here, hold Johnny (our six-week-old son) while I get
my sandwich,' she said.
I had him balanced between my left elbow and shoulder and
was reaching again for the ham sandwich when I noticed a
streak of mustard on my fingers.
I love mustard.
I had no napkin.
I licked it off.
It was not mustard.
No man ever put a baby down faster. It was the first
and only time I have sprinted with my tongue protruding out.
With a washcloth in each hand, I did the sort of routine
shoeshine boys do, only I did it on my tongue.
Later, after she stopped crying from laughing so hard, my
wife said, 'Now you know why they call that fancymustard
' Poupon.''
When you stop laughing, pass it on.
(This is a true story. If you have
children you will probably relate to this father.)
As ham sandwiches go, it was perfection: a thick slab of
ham on a fresh bun with crisp lettuce and plenty of
expensive, light brown, Gourmet Mustard. The corners of my
jaw aching in anticipation, I carried it to the table in our
backyard, picked it up with both hands, but was stopped by
my wife suddenly at my side.
'Here, hold Johnny (our six-week-old son) while I get
my sandwich,' she said.
I had him balanced between my left elbow and shoulder and
was reaching again for the ham sandwich when I noticed a
streak of mustard on my fingers.
I love mustard.
I had no napkin.
I licked it off.
It was not mustard.
No man ever put a baby down faster. It was the first
and only time I have sprinted with my tongue protruding out.
With a washcloth in each hand, I did the sort of routine
shoeshine boys do, only I did it on my tongue.
Later, after she stopped crying from laughing so hard, my
wife said, 'Now you know why they call that fancymustard
' Poupon.''
When you stop laughing, pass it on.