A Little Mustard, Please

My son had a hamburger cloud floating over his head yesterday after we picked my daughter up from dance lessons.  "Mama, I really need a hamburger," he said.

"You need one?" I asked.  "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mama.  I'll die without one."

I highly doubted that.  Fortunately for him, there was a Dairy Queen nearby.  I decided to let them do the cooking.

We walked in and the teenager behind the counter took the little guy's order.  "What would you like on that?" she asked.

"Ketchup and a little bit of mustard.  But not too much mustard, because I'm not sure I like it."

I looked at the boy.  "What do you mean?  You just had a hot dog a few days ago and you thought mustard was just great on it!"

"Yeah, Mama, but that was a hot dog."

"What's the difference?" I asked.  I couldn't understand what the big deal was.

"Mama, hot dogs are pink and skinny.  Hamburgers are round and black.  I'm not sure if mustard goes good with round, black things."

Oh.  That made perfect sense to me.  The girl behind the counter thought so, too.  She laughed and brought out his hamburger with a lot of ketchup and a little bit of mustard, which he thoroughly enjoyed.