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“Whatcha doin’?” I asked as I saw her whisking some batter in a bowl wearing just one of my t-shirts.
“Making whole wheat banana muffins. Will you try one?”
“Darling, I’ll eat your muff any day.”
“Well, this is the only muff you’re going to get today because my donut hole is oozing jelly, if you know what I mean.”
“You’re confusing food metaphors.”
“Well, there should be no confusion. If you don’t want our bed to look like something out of C.S.I., then I suggest you be content with just my banana muffin.”
“But you look so very edible in my shirt.”
“You can look, but no touch.”
“What about my banana?”
“Oh, is that what you have in your pants? You looked a little large to me.”
“This is all natural,” I said, pulling the elastic waistband forward for her to see.
“Keep it in your pants,” she said, still looking at it longingly.
“But Darling.”
“No buts,”
“Just your butt, how’s that? The perfect compromise.”
“Compromise? Seems more like first prize for you.”
“That it is.”