I don't write you letters nearly as often as I'd like. This time, however, extenuating circumstances have forced me to come clean. Those circumstances mainly being my guilty conscience and... well, not much else. But before I come clean, I need to give you a warning: Be careful what you wish for.
Recently you switched your daily lunch request from chicken nuggets to peanut butter and jelly. You did so despite my mild protests. You see, my princess, it is a lot easier for me to make you a week's worth of nuggets on Sunday night, store them in the fridge, and gather four of them at a time every morning along with some peas and blueberries for a balanced and delicious lunch.
|That's the special spreader.|
So of course I cut corners. Literally and figuratively. You should know that when I cut the crusts off your sandwich, I do so purely out of love because I know that's how you
|Why let that go to waste?|
You see, Peanut, even though I'm racing against time. Even though I'm risking tardiness that could throw my entire morning's work flow, and the production of the quality news program I run into complete anarchy, I still need to keep a neat kitchen. And I am still looking out for you. I don't want runaway peanut butter and/or jelly to escape following crust removal. I don't want it to drip on the counter. And most important, I don't want your cute little hands to get any stickier and messier than necessary while you're enjoying your homemade-with-love PB&J at school. So I do something to prevent the messes on both of our ends:
I lick your sandwich in a hasty yet delicious act of desperation, frenzy, and love.
Yes, licks of love.
As I said before, I make peanut butter and jelly for you, out of love. I cut the crusts off for you, out of love. Therefore, I lick your lunch, out of love.
A + B = C.
|Made with love.|
P.S. Remember: Be careful what you wish for.
This is just one more thing we've had to adjust to since Peanut started Kindergarten, as I first wrote about HERE.