Monday, May 31, 2010

The Hamburger

The other night, we were supposed to go over to Anna and Robert's for burgers.  But Chad ended up working late, so Max and I went without him.  We also ate without him and just hung out for a while, to see if Chad would be able to make it.  But with bed time quickly approaching, I decided to make him a burger and meet him at home.  I put lots of effort into it, making it just how he likes it.  I paused for a minute to decide if I should put ketchup on it or not-- if we're at home, he does not use ketchup, but if we're at a restaurant where ketchup comes on the burger, he likes it.  So I decided to go ahead and put ketchup- along with mustard, mayo, cheese, lettuce, and tomato on it.  Perfecto.  Just the way he likes it.

I wrapped it up and headed home- planning to stop off for a milkshake on the way to make his meal complete.  Chad then called while I was in route and told me not to worry about the milkshake.  When we got home, he was already there, so I handed him the burger and went to put Max to bed.

A couple minutes later he was hollering for me, so I stuck my head out Max's room and he wanted to know why I put ketchup on his burger- he didn't like ketchup.  He actually says something along the lines of, "Do you even know me?  Since when do I put ketchup on my burger?"

I then explained my logic and went back to putting the baby to bed.

Ok, slight hiccup, but not a deal breaker- he could tough it out and eat or wipe it off.  No big deal.

It isn't 20 seconds when he starts hollering again.  Seriously Chad?  It's just ketchup-- put on your big girl panties and get over it.  But being the loving wife that I am, I stuck my head out again to see him holding the bun open and saying "where is my burger?"

Yes, I had forgotten the actual burger.

I tried to tell him it was a BLT, without thinking, and this pushes him over the edge.  "It's not a BLT, there is no meat, there is no B, where is my meat? What do you expect me to do?"  I lose it here- dying laughing, tears rolling down my face, can't catch my breath.  I get the baby to bed and I'm still giggling.  And the giggling turn to cackling... again. I begin snapping pictures of Chad holding his burgerless burger, and this makes him more mad.  I retreat to the kitchen to call Anna and leave her a voicemail with the story.

Chad sits on the couch for about 10 more minutes holding the bun- he is at a loss with what to do.  I break it to him that he has to have leftovers- lasagna or chicken it is- and this starts the pouting.  Meanwhile, I'm still laughing... not a good combination.... for him.

But it's the thought that counts, right?

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