eric just came bursting into the room from the bathroom. with a whole wheat pretzel.
and he held it up proudly, near my face, and said, a little too loudly, “WHAT DOES THIS LOOK LIKE.”
i gave him the obvious answer he was going for.
poop. a poop, ok? this pretzel looked like a nasty, contorted poop.
and he? he just stood there, admiring it.
and then he ate it. slowly, bite by bite, clearly savoring it.
i will NEVER. fully understand men.