Hey, better not be knockin pb&b sandwiches. My dear ole Dad, gerd bless his soul, used to eat one a couple of times a week, usually after a dinner he didn’t like. It was a passive aggressive hint to my mom that her dinner sucked and that he was still hungry.
Damn I used to hate watching my parents interact when I was a kid. They always seemed so belligerent toward one another, and it hurt and confused me a lot. Little did I know the nature of their mode of communication and how much they actually loved one another. They were married 64 years until dad passed. She’s still alive and kicking and is pissed at him for dying first, and says she’ll never forgive him for that.
Parents, gotta love em because hatin’ em will just consume too much of your time.