She: “A beautiful morning!”
He: “Indeed. Bright light in sky appears in East. Around here, this time of year, that’s news.”
She: “This calls for a hearty celebration. Would you care for waffles, or eggs and bacon, or an omelette, or …”
He: “Hm. Choices, choices. Let me finish getting dressed first. One cribro at a time.”
She: “Cry what?”
He: “On a morning like this, what have you got to cry about? Does it really matter to you how quickly I put my socks on?”
She: “You’ll be the one crying if your waffles get cold. It might even be a crisis.”
He: “Like I said. A cribro.”
She: “What?!?”
He: “Would you please tell me how come every time your life gets exciting, it’s got to be a girl?”
She: “I’m not sure you want to go there …”
He: “Too late. They used to call hurricanes by girl’s names, but people complained, and now they alternate. Fair is fair. Last time I looked, I was still a guy, and besides, I don’t wish for people to think that, every time I screw up, I blame it on my sister. So, cribro.”
She: “Come to the table. Your blood sugar is obviously way low, you can’t afford to miss breakfast.”
He: “Mister!”
She: “Oy …”