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14 Jan

Why I Love My Husband But Have Been Known To Roll My Eyes At Him, Dramatically, Part XXVI

Dinner chez HBM, last night:

Wonderbaby (pointing, with frown, to suspicious orange lump on plate): Whassat?

HBM: Sweet potato.

Wonderbaby: NO LIKE TAY-TOE.

HBM: Fine. It’s a yam.

Wonderbaby: HAM?


HBF (helpfully): It’s a tuber.

Wonderbaby: TOOBER?

HBF: Tuber.

Wonderbaby: NO LIKE TOOBER.

(Tuber/yam/sweetpotato flies by HBM’s head, very narrowly missing her nose, and lands, with a splat, on the dining room wall, where it clings for a sticky moment before sliding, tuberously, to the freshly-cleaned floor.)

HBF: Ah.


HBF: Tuber-too-close-is. Be glad you didn’t catch that.