I made a cherry pie for dinner last night. Actually, Sara Lee made a pie – I merely baked it. Either way, it was delicious.
Kelly stalked the oven, much like the kitties stalk me every time I walk near the refrigerator. Finally, the timer beeped and the pie was done.
Me: 45 minutes of cooling, then it’s ready to eat.
Him: I doubt I’ll give it 45 minutes. That’s too long.
Me: The rules are there to keep you from eating molten-lava cherry filling.
Him: I don’t follow rules.
Me: You need to wait 20 minutes at least – until 7:45.
Him: I’ll get pie when I get pie. And it will probably be before 7:45.
At 7:33 –
Him: Time for pie!
Me: Well, it’s 7:33. You didn’t wait until 7:45.
Him: I don’t lie about pie.
He did better than Jer. That dumb man steals a brownie (or whatever sweet I am cooking up) about 5 minutes after it has come out of the oven. However, it is a hoot to watch him eat it.
Mmmmmm… pie.