"Mama," my nine-year-old son said. "I'm going to make a perfect sandwich."
Good, I thought, Because now I'll have something to write about for the letter "p" in the A-Z challenge! "Okay, Bubba. Go for it."
He got out the bread. And the lunch meat. And the mayonnaise. And the onions. About ten minutes later, he had the perfect sandwich.
"Look, Mama," he said, bringing the sandwich into the room where I was working. "Do you like it?" No sooner had he said that, then the plate slipped out of his hands. His perfect sandwich lay strewn about on the floor.
He didn't have much time to worry about it though, because a second later, our 100 pound German Shepherd, Schultz, came over and ate the perfect sandwich. (He obviously doesn't care about the five-second rule!)
Bubba looked at me with his mouth open.
"Well, Bubba," I said, "The good news is, your sandwich was indeed perfect, because Schultz gobbled it all up and didn't leave a single crumb!"