Mustard

I Love Mustard. (This is a true story. If you have children you will  probably relate to this father). As ham sandwiches go, it was perfection: a thick slab of ham on a  fresh bun  with crisp lettuce and plenty of expensive, light brown, Gourmet  Mustard.  The corners of my jaw aching in anticipation, I carried it to the  table in our backyard, picked it up with both hands, but was stopped by my wife  suddenly at my side.  

Here, hold Johnny (our six-week-old son) while I get my sandwich,' she  said.  I had him balanced between my left elbow and shoulder and was reaching  again for the ham sandwich when I noticed a streak of mustard on my  fingers.. I love mustard.  I had no napkin. I licked it off.  It was not mustard. No man ever put a baby down faster.  It was the first and only time I have sprinted with my tongue protruding out.  With a washcloth in each hand, I did the sort of routine  shoeshine boys do, only I did it on my tongue. Later, after she stopped crying from laughing so hard, my  wife Said, 'Now you know why they call that fancy mustard >>> Poupon.''