Wednesday, February 9, 2011

I can be a brat


Grace is when your husband is making a spice mix for the fajitas and you tell him he should add cumin and he says he doesn't like cumin and you make him smell the opened jar and he makes a face and then you walk over to his spice mix and deliberately add cumin in an act of culinary stubbornness and general obnoxiousness and he stares at you in shocked disbelief, composes himself and then he tells you to go for a run, really, I think you'll be happier if you do, and I got dinner and Carter's fine and I love you.

2 comments:

  1. Yup. So can I. Do you think it's hereditary?

    Love, Mom

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  2. Nah! You're not a brat. You have to have cumin in fajitas!

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