Today I decided to have a banana at lunch. I'm one of those weird people that likes their banana a little green, but it makes them harder to open that way.
"Ben" I said (I'm in the kitchen working on classwork)
"What dear?" he called from his desk in the other room
I added the "dear" part because I like to imagine he calls me that all the time
"Can you come and open this?"
I'm holding the banana out, and he comes marching into the kitchen, chest puffed out, arms swinging. He's chanting some kind of manly war cry, with lots of "HUH HUH" kinds of noises. At this point, his face is incredibly proud. He's coming to fulfill his manly job of being strong and opening something large and difficult, like a 10 lb bag of flour or a 30 oz can of baked beans.
He's an all-American cowboy, coming to rescue me from my peril.
And then he deflates as he sees this tiny green banana that needs to be opened.
It was a delicious banana.