I love mustard

This story actually came from an email forward that I got from my Grandma today. It is so funny that I just had to share it. I do not know the name of the original author.

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.”

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3 Responses

  1. janis says:

    ewwwwwwwww guess I am glad I have never had the pleasure of having poupon mustard !

  2. Amber says:

    You are more than welcome to come change one of Adrianna’s diapers – her poo really does look like mustard. Ick.

  3. Karen the future Davis gal says:

    Gross! Yucky! That actually happened to Mary Sowers once…she was holding someone’s baby at a homeschool picnic or something, and yeah, ick. I actually said the grey poupon thing to her too! hehe! I was just glad that it wasn’t me with all that lovely “mustard” on my arm!!!

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