Sandwiches

Margaret got a stove and a table for Christmas, and I realize that I have actually built her a very nice studio apartment in the far end of our living room.  So really, she can move out anytime, provided she defines moving out as moving into the far end of the living room and continuing to sleep in her bed, since that is one thing we don’t have in that area.*

As part of the stove gift, she got a food set.  It’s actually rather a clever set-up.  There are slices of things that all attach to each other with velcro, so even a somewhat uncoordinated sandwich-stacker can achieve impressive results.

One slight hitch is that after she makes these sandwiches (and there are many sandwiches – or slices of pizza, which is a story for another day – made each day) she brings them to me so that I can sample them and give my opinion.  But they’re made out of wood, which makes them less palatable than the cereal she throws on the floor during meals and then scavenges for me later in the day.**

Luckily, usually the comment “Margaret try it” has the desired result.

Now I’ve just got to figure out of chewing on blocks of wood is good or bad for her teeth.

*Speaking of moving out, she seems to have been watching Home Alone on the sly, and then thinking about it in her sleep, because when I went into her room last night, she had the moves down.

** She’s really very thoughtful, if a little unhygienic.