Yesterday I was eating a tomato while Connor ate some carrots. Michael kept roving back and forth between the refrigerator and the couch, looking more disgruntled each time he sat down. “Honey, what's up with the pacing?” I asked.
“I just wish we had some broccoli.” (Bear with me, this gets better.)
This morning, I woke up a little too early. Consequently, I remembered my dreams (I almost never do). “Baby, guess what! I dreamed that we did have broccoli in the fridge!”
“Yeah? So what happened to it?”
“I told you that it was in there and you must have missed it. It was behind the carrots.”
“Okay.”
“Anyway, then you ate it. I think you ate it with the Italian dressing, but it might have been ranch.”
“Thanks for sharing.”
(All right, it didn't really get any better. Sorry.)
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