Alexander wanted to have a sandwich for lunch. The only problem is...we were more or less out of bread. I told Alexander as much, but he wouldn't believe me.
"Let's go check the outside fridge!" he said.
"I don't think we have any bread out there, either," I said.
"We do!" he said.
"I don't think so."
So we went to check and came back into the house wailing (let me clarify that it was Alexander doing the wailing; not me).
"Sorry, buddy," I said. "We just don't have any bread. We can come up with another idea for lunch, though. We have leftover pizza or..."
"I want a sandwich!" he cried, big alligator tears escaping down his cheeks.
"How about we make a peanut butter and jam sandwich on a tortilla?! That could be fun!"
"No, it couldn't! I just want bread!"
He was having quite the emotional breakdown over this, so I grabbed the remaining loaf of homemade bread from the counter—stale as could be—walked over to the tap, and started rinsing it under the water.
Everyone stopped and stared at me.
"What are you...what...what are you doing?"