I took out the cheese grater, to grate some cheese (go figure). The cheese played the role of “cholesterol garnish” to our tasty, leftover-from-Christmas-Eve baked-potato soup. As the grater emerged from my cupboard, I had a thought… “I am grater!”
I said to my husband, I says, “I think I wish I was a grater so I could say, ‘I am greater’ without feeling as though I were boasting.” I held the grater high in my right hand.
Hubby said, “Oh, come on now, that would just be… cheesey.”
Our kids are so lucky. BOTH parents are incredibly quick-witted and comical, even edgy. By having both our jeans genes, certainly they are destined for grateness greatness :)
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