You Get Potato. I Meant Tomato.

I'm making sandwiches.  In my sandwiches there always goes, in this order:

Bread

Mayo

Wasabi

Turkey (or beef)

Cheese

Sliced Cucumbers (or lettuce)

Sliced Tomatoes

(other bread, already dressed in mayo and wasabi)

Shoulder-deep into the sandwich making process I ask Husband, "Could you get me the potato from the fridge, please?"

Husband, kindly goes to the fridge and gets me a potato.

Before he can close the fridge I say, "No no, get me the red one, the red thing. The…." and I pause, treading in tasks while making sure Toddler does not destroy the living room.  "The…"

Husband queries, (sometimes humorously, sometimes impatiently, depending on his hunger), "The what?  What do you need?"

Me, treading more frantically amidst the cheese and bread, "No, Toddler, that's dangerous for little creatures such as yourself.  No, Toddler!  No, NO no Thank you!" deftly grabbing the__________(please insert: dangerous object of your choice) or deflecting the__________(please insert: big mess making-opportunity-for -a-child, of your choice).  *I am not good at multi-tasking.*  And, going to the fridge, I fetch the TOMATO I was looking for.

Husband, "Oh, I see, the TOMATO!  I thought you said you wanted a POTATO!"

Me, somewhat archly, "Yes, I wanted a tomato, which you could have realized had you taken the time to use your adept, logical mind. You've seen me make a thousand sandwiches and know what goes in them. So you should know, or at least know better than to fetch me a potato!"

Husband, abashedly, "I thought you were making stew." 

Me, "Why would I make a stew when it's 8pm and we haven't eaten and it's Toddler's bedtime and we're so very hungry and too poor/health conscious to grab McDonald's on the way home?"

Toddler, "I wan' go Old McDonald's!!  I don' wan' dis food!" and throws bowl of cereal on the floor, which husband had thoughtfully prepared despite the fact that I had been dramatically making Toddler a delicious peanut butter and jam sandwich.  

When Wife goes mad, Husband sweetly follows suit 
in an effort to keep up with her pace.  Toddler enjoys the messy times and jubilantly follows Daddy and Mama into madness.

Poor Husband is expected to fill out a logic puzzle
"A potato does not go on a sandwich (usually) so what is not on the sandwich that usually goes there and sounds similar to potato?"  And yet, Wife can't be bothered to remember the much easier task of remembering a noun.  :(   Sorry, darling <3  

Humor in Humiliation.

Despite my shame of being a stressed-out-hypocrite in such moments, I don't think I'd ever want to forget them.  Husband, especially, finds them humorous despite my poor temper.  His retellings of my flustrations (flustered+exclamations=flustrations) are always charming and heart-warming.  It's one of his magical gifts.


Mistress Mary

In general, I have always been impatient with language.  As a child I felt frustrated and confused when my parents and siblings would laugh at me when my gift for getting lyrics and rhymes incorrect would bear fruit such as:

"Mistresss Mary Quite Contrary, 

  How does your garden grow?

  With silver bells and taco shells 

  And pretty maids all in a row."

The confusion came from being laughed at;
the frustration, from everyone refusing to tell me was was so funny.   Now, having enjoyed my own little guy's anecdotes myself, I think my parents probably just loved my "gift" and didn't want me to fix it. I'm grateful they let me keep my rhymes.

Sometimes it's nice to let Mistress Mary have her tacos.  
She is so pleased with how they are bright as a daisy, and wonderfully buttery as, well, as a buttercup, of course.