When he returned, celery in hand, I was busy working out the disaster I�d created by trying to make dip in a bowl faaaar too small to make dip. I told him to go ahead and wash and cut the celery, explaining that he needed to tear off and trim the stalks before scrubbing them. He obliged, and afterward, turned to me, beaming, and said, �That�s the first time I�ve ever made celery!�

I retorted, �You didn�t MAKE celery. You bought, washed, and cut celery.�

But his spirit would not be crushed, as he lay out the handy stalks in celery�s little apartment of the veggie tray.

Later, I noticed him adding more celery to the half-eaten portion out on the table. Shawn said, �Thank you, Beaker!� and I thought it a little strange that he only added to THAT veggie, but didn�t think much of it.

Until we were in the kitchen, and I was eating my dinner, and out of nowhere, he turned to me and exclaimed, �People are really eating that celery! It makes me so proud to see people taking it.�

I couldn�t stand it anymore, and almost choked on my mouthful of curried chickpeas, I started laughing so hard at my fishes-for-a-living, beer-drinking, man�s-man friend. I wasn�t trying to be mean, but I just couldn�t help it. Fortunately, he was laughing, too, as I snorted, �You have said some funny-ass things in the time I�ve known you. But what you just said? It�s the King of Funny.�

That�s when he very seriously added, �Don�t worry. They�re eating yours, too.�

Well, thank the Easter Bunny. I�d have been heartbroken if they�d turned their nose up at my hand-chopped green pepper, or the baby carrots I�d worked so hard to prepare by opening a plastic bag and dumping them onto the tray.