The Perfect Nine Inches

Tuesday is a half day at school, this means I collect the little travellers bang on lunch time. They are both simultaneously starving yet overly excited about their escape.

We’ve tried a few combinations on what to do for lunch. The rules are that it can’t be junk food nor involve the need for a second mortgage. The second rule was implemented after the second little traveller suggested we try a buffet lunch at a five star hotel. I had to reintroduce the rule recently when I unknowingly ordered the first traveller a $30 maki roll, twice!

We’re currently in a Subway phase. I love watching my guys get excited about how much salad they can stuff into a roll, it makes me get all self righteous about parenting. I choose to ignore that they then request a cookie, and that I once caught my eldest crumbling a bag of potato chips over her lettuce. We’ve moved on now though, we stick to a set order and everyone has their favourite. I caught myself explaining my order to a neighbour recently.

“I like a six inch” I said without thinking of the possible innuendo.

I went on.

“I’d prefer a twelve inch, actually I’d love a twelve inch, but that would be a bit naughty for lunch.”

She agreed with me, she said she could do a twelve inch as well.

“They should do a nine inch, nine inches would be perfect for me” I was getting excited now.

The neighbour began to giggle. Her mind had gone elsewhere. She winked and suggested the six inch just didn’t even touch the sides.

Ordering Subway will never be quite the same.

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