The things that come out of Nick’s mouth…you can’t just make this stuff up.
I was sitting on the couch all mopey because one of my favorite treats had betrayed me. Nick walked in from work and sat on the couch to give me a kiss. Understanding my misery, he gestured toward the pantry to suggest that I comfort myself with a replacement treat.
“Why don’t you have some Cheerios? No, not Cheerios. Have some Fritos. No, not Fritos. Hmm.” He was spinning his tires, and his face looked pinched as he tried to do a mind-meld with the pantry before locking me in an intense stare. “Crunchy. Orange.”
“Cheetos?” I offered.
“That’s the one! See? We’re perfect for each other.”