Today, I made Reid his usual peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. As I always do, I asked him how many pieces he wanted the sandwich cut into. The answer was four – which always makes me do a little fist pump at the counter.

Then I asked the question I only ask if I am in a generous mood, “Do you want squares or triangles?” Today, the Universe obviously wanted to punish me, because he responded, “Circles.”

When I cut it into triangles anyway, telling him I couldn’t do circles, Reid disappeared and some sort of terrible banshee-like monster arrived in his place. “Cirrrrrrrrcles! Cirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrcles! Can’t eat this! Cirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrcles!” Oh, the tears. The wailing. The kicking of feet and pounding of fists.

So I used my little butter knife to carve those triangles into four disgusting little squashed, half-oval, half-circular sandwich morsels. That did the trick, and Reid calmed down…then ate, as usual, about one and a half bites of the whole sandwich.