“Do you think he’d be mad at me if I write “Merrizzle my Dizzle” instead of his name?” My husband asked me while he playfully flipped the Sharpie in his hand.
“Um, babe? The teachers will be holding onto his sack lunch for him, and they won’t know it’s for him.”
(In case you’re wondering, my fourth grade son has a field trip today and they’re requiring students sack lunches.) My husband pouts momentarily over my response. “Dammit! Um.. what about Batman? Can I write Batman on it?”
“That’s still not his name, babe. If you want to, maybe, draw a Batman symbol underneath his name, so that the teacher’s will still know it’s his, go ahead….” I trailed off, busy at work.
I should’ve kept my mouth shut. I should’ve known he wasn’t going to just stop there, especially after holding the bag for TEN MINUTES in his hands, crafting the so-called Batman symbol.
Behold.. my husband’s creation (aka the reason he’s not allowed to pack sack lunches anymore) – the Batman sack lunch!
“This isn’t the lunch that Gotham deserves.. it’s the lunch Gotham needs” – Batman
And
“We will destroy Gotham and then when it is done and Gotham is ashes, then you have my permission to each lunch.” – Bane
This coming from the guy who made fun of me for making fricken faces on cheesesticks:
