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
> mustard 'Poupon.''