Greg came home while we were in the middle of a kitchen craft table cleanup. I was looking harried and harrier than ever, probably not the picture perfect wife he was hoping to return home to. We managed to smear the glitter glue around the tabletop making dinner placements out of the glue and sparkles. Spagetti night and everyone was happy to have Daddy home from his meetings, until Hanna began to shake the parmesan cheese container and angrily said that it was clogged. Greg, without hesitation, took my used fork out of my spaghetti bowl and prong side down, covered in meat sauce, proceeded to shove it down the slit in the parmesan shaker and jab through the obstruction. I looked for the hidden camera in the dangling light fixture. Are you kidding me? At the very least, he could have used the handle of the fork to shake the powder loose, it still wouldn’t have made it okay but it wouldn’t have been quite so offensive.