My husband and I signed up to do a dance number at the church pot-luck social and talent show. This would have been fine, except I have a three-year-old child, and someone brought Nacho Cheese Doritos.
First, my three-year-old stands at the buffet table, munching Nacho Cheese Doritos right from the bag. Then he comes over to our table, where I have cut up a hot dog for him. He pats me on the back, and on the shoulder, and on my chest. "I love you, mommy!" he says, and kisses me on one cheek, then goes around and kisses me on the other, and then does it again.
"You've got cheese powder all over your shirt," my husband informs me.
And on my face too, no doubt. At my first chance I run to the ladies' room and try to scrub the cheese powder off with a wet paper towel. Fortunately, I had worn a black shirt.
The dance number went well, even if I was a little cheesy.