ccavacini
09-28-2005, 02:02 PM
>
>
> The Mustard Story
(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. 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 fancy mustard .
> "Poupon."
>
> The Mustard Story
(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. 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 fancy mustard .
> "Poupon."