January 30, 2013
Last night we were sitting around the dinner table talking about Super Bowl snacks again. Enzo says he wants brown potato chips, spicy ones, the kind they have at 4th R (his after school program). We’re pretty sure he means BBQ flavor.
Then we got started on different kinds of cheeses for our grilled cheese sandwiches.
Me: How about Havarti? That’s nice and melty.
Teresa: More like Hav-farty.
We crack up about this for awhile, and then Teresa adds: Mozzar-smella!
Enzo: Peanut Butt-er! (and moments later) Peanut Butter and Smelly!”
But what I want to write about is that I got myself into a state. I was drooling and crying. It wasn’t really amusement anymore. It was more like a seizure. I had to leave the table and blow my nose and take deep breaths and write my notes. I think Enzo and Teresa were a bit puzzled.
Later, in bed, Teresa and I were spooned and sleepy, and I said, “Let’s talk about cheese some more.”
“Is that really a good idea?”
We both thought for a moment and then Teresa said, “Well, there’s the obvious, Smellveeta.” I could feel it starting again, a trembling that would soon become a snort. And then she added, “Monterey Crack.” And I lost it all over again.