Tragic Sandwich

Food. Family. Fun.

Marital Harmony

Mr. Sandwich and I rarely fight. We have disagreements, a few of them heated. But let’s just say they’ll never make an Oscar-winning movie about us, because “and then they communicated well, and found a mutually acceptable solution” just isn’t great drama. At least, not to Hollywood.

Every now and then, though, we come up with a reason to argue. Not a good reason. And not a real argument. Just one designed to look ridiculous to strangers who have the misfortune to be shopping at Costco when we are there:

Mr. Sandwich: [pointing at canopy] We should buy Baguette this for when she wants to go to the beach.
Me: Or when she plays soccer with her friends.
Mr. Sandwich: [gritting his teeth] When she goes to the beach!
Me: She doesn’t WANT go to go the beach. She WANTS to pay SOCCER with her FRIENDS.

This is the point at which people start moving away from us. Because we are fighting about how our daughter prefers to spend her time. And on that occasion, she was all of five months old.

If only they knew how hilarious we think we are.

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