Mayonnaise

I love mayonnaise.   I don’t know how to spell the word well, but I love it mayonnaise nonetheless.   My husband hates mayonnaise.  He has been known to throw a perfectly delicious hamburger out the window, just because it had mayonnaise on it.   Or wait, was that the time he got cheese on his hamburger?  

Maybe we should circle back to me, and how I love mayonnaise so much that I’ve been known to eat mayonnaise sandwiches.   I’ve debated if it was really necessary to have tuna fish in tuna salad, forgoing the latter for extra mayonnaise.   There is no such thing as too much mayonnaise as far as I’ve been able to tell thus far in my life.

I was on vacation this past weekend with my in-laws, husband and children.   We were in a time share they were spending the week in after we stayed for the first weekend.   I was making a sandwich just before we departed and assumed there would likely be no mayonnaise in the refrigerator because maybe like son like parents and mayonnaise was low on their priority list of condiments to stock for a week-long stay.

I was pleasantly surprised to find a jar of mayonnaise in the refrigerator door and said as much to the room in general as I prepared to spread some onto my bread.    My mother-in-law immediately said, “oh yes, I don’t travel anywhere without mayonnaise.”

I knew I liked her for a reason.

The Big Boy Update:  My son was interested in a catalog today of children’s items.   My husband got him a pen and told him to circle all the things he wanted for his birthday and Christmas (because he kept asking about Star Wars items.)   About ten minutes later I heard my husband say from the next room, “ah, I see you circled everything on this page.  Oh, and you circled everything on this page too.   And I see you also circled everything on this page.  Okay, okay, you can keep working, you still have time before bed.”   We had to promise to keep the catalog and pen out so he could continue his work for tomorrow.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:   My daughter is remembering all sorts of things of late.   I don’t know if it’s the temperature starting to change or the feeling that fall is coming, but she’s asking questions I about things I’m surprised she remembers.   Today she asked me, “when is it time for bring your head housing?”  It took me about three minutes to figure out with follow-on questions to figure out she was asking when it would be time to do gingerbread houses.