Whenever those words cross my lips, Jason's BS alarm goes off. He's a solid guy, you know, but he's lacking a little in the "I'll take my wife's word for it" department. Especially when he smells work.
The other night, as I was occupied with feeding Helen, had a million things going, and we needed to get gone, I asked him to take over for me in the kitchen and make the deviled eggs, one of his all-time favorites. Jason usually helps me whenever I ask and he's not busy. But here's where I made my mistake--I framed my request with, "It's a lot of fun!" or somesuch other silly statement. To his credit, he made the deviled eggs anyway, because he is a good, solid guy. He asked me how I do them and what I put in them, and then off he went, concocting out of my spice cabinet. Recently, he has been tinkering with things in the kitchen--coleslaw dressing, to be exact. He reminds me of me. And he came up with pretty good coleslaw and some awesome deviled eggs. And then he said, "You know, you were right. This is kind of fun."
Mmm-hmm, that's what I said. It was fun.