Pregnancy Craving

When your husband comes home to the office at 1:30pm, you offer him lunch, of course. He says No, thank you. You wonder why.

And then you smell it, the smell of your favorite restaurant, the one which has the food you have been fantasizing about for days, maybe weeks, without obtaining any of its sigh-inducing, peace-and-heaven-bringing goodness.

The smell is on his clothes.

You pull back from his arms and ask suspiciously, "Did you go to Chipotle?"

He smiles sheepishly and says, "Yes." (Of course. Your nose already told you that.)

Then you ask the other question, the one you really want to know the answer to: "Did you bring me anything?"

"No."

"You what?? You didn't bring me anything? You went to Chipotle, at lunchtime, when you knew you were coming home afterwards, and you didn't bring me anything?"

"Well . . . " he is very sheepish now " Uhh . . . I thought you might have already eaten . . . or something . . . "

"Ahhh! I never eat till after 2pm, you know that!"

And then you are completely justified in putting your amused husband into the doghouse for the rest of the day -- because it really isn't funny, it is serious! Also, you are free to mope around the rest of the afternoon, eating your unsatisfactory lunch thinking about the lunch you could have had . . . because, darn it, you are pregnant, and the baby needed Chipotle!

Then when you see the offending receipt from that place of yummy food laying on the floor the next morning, you are still entitled to bring it up again to your (now very amused and exasperated) husband, because, after all, such offences against a pregnant woman are not forgotten quickly and you are still mad!