Scene: Kitchen, 4 pm Saturday afternoon.
Sara, 7 1/2 months pregnant, feet swollen, a little cranky.
Tim, 7 1/2 months sympathy pregnant, jolly.
Lily, still angry at having been given a bath 5 hours ago.
Cat, still fat.
Sara: What are we going to have for dinner? I don't really feel like anything in particular.
Tim: Do you want to go out to eat? Order in? Cook? We can grill?
Tim: Baby, you have been so busy today doing our laundry. Why don't you just sit down, put your feet up, and I'll take care of dinner. Would you like any water? Maybe some juice? A snack while you wait?
Sara: Oh no, I couldn't possibly let you do all that....well, if you insist. I'll just sit down right here...
Scene continues...5:30 pm.
Tim: We are having honey-jalapeno glazed grilled shrimp, new potatoes with garlic, olive oil and parmesan, and steamed asparagus! I've got all the ingredients and will commence cooking immediately!
Sara: (from the couch) Go forth and conquer the grill! (Inwardly: oh thank god I don't have to help).
Ladies and Gentlemen, this is why I married my husband. And I think he's still trying to make up for calling me Shamu last week.