Per my mother's request, I would like to share a little anecdote with you special readers this evening.
I realized while I was putting this blog together that I have no recent pictures of my children. Bad Mom!
I will rectify this atrocity as soon as possible.
I made french fries and grilled-cheese sandwiches for dinner tonight. The grilled cheese sandwiches have a special recipe (my mother's secret ingredient) that make the taste sortof ka-pow in your mouth; perhaps I will share it with you some day.
As we were eating, my little girl "why" child turned to me and said:
"Mom, why are they called 'grill-cheese'?"
To which I replied, as I often have to when my children ask these types of questions: "Because they are."
Please note that I have explained the term grilled cheese to her before, but she just likes to drive me crazy with repeated questions.
My son, who hadn't appeared to be paying any attention at all, said:
"I'm eating a Boiecheze Sandwich!"
Grammy's face rather scrunched up in confusion as she turned to look at him and asked me, "What did he say?"
I clarified with a small smile on my face. "He said he is eating a Boy Cheese Sandwich."
It took about a second and a half to sink it, but my parents were soon laughing with delight. Considering how difficult it is to amuse either one of my parents, that's quite a feat.
That's my boy.
I suppose from here on out, we shall have to call them Gyrlcheze and Boiecheze Sandwiches.