I Love Mustard. (This is a true story. If you have children you will probably relate to this father).


As ham sandwiches go, it was perfection: a thick slab of ham on a fresh bun with crisp lettuce and plenty of expensive, light brown, Gourmet Mustard.

The corners of my jaw aching in anticipation, I carried it to the table in our backyard, picked it up with both hands, but was stopped by my wife

suddenly at my side.


Here, hold Johnny (our six-week-old son) while I get my sandwich,' she said.


I had him balanced between my left elbow and shoulder and was reaching again for the ham sandwich when I noticed a streak of mustard on my fingers..


I love mustard.


I had no napkin.


I licked it off.


It was not mustard.


No man ever put a baby down faster.


It was the first and only time I have sprinted with my tongue protruding out.


With a washcloth in each hand, I did the sort of routine shoeshine boys do, only I did it on my tongue.


Later, after she stopped crying from laughing so hard, my wife said, 'Now you know why they call that fancy expensive mustard - "Poupon"