My parents are saving money to buy me a yard, so every morning, my dad wakes up early to make my mom the most delicious sandwich to take to work for lunch.
Peanut butter and strawberry preserves.
Every. Single. Day.
I am so jealous! I usually stand next to him, drool hanging down past my shoulder in my statuesque pose. I learned a few months ago that my best "please, please, please" whine just got me banished to the stairs, where I didn't even have a chance of smelling the deliciousness (or catching any nibbles if he was messy and dropped a few crumbs).
But this morning... THIS morning... oh, it was glorious.
My dad stepped outside to load a large box of supplies into the car for my mom. I only had a few moments, seconds really, but I tore through that sandwich baggie and swallowed half of that sandwich faster than you can say "Bob's your uncle." Ahhh... totally worth my dad's stern words when he caught me trying to swallow the second half of the sandwich pelican-style. No big deal, dad. I left the baggie. If you make mom another sandwich, she will never know the difference. Well, she might wonder about the large hole in the side of the bag, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.