A few nights ago, Wistie was explaining to Barbara Steve and I the plate theory. She says that when you give a boy a plate of cookies, you can either give them to him on:
a paper plate. The boy is.. all right, but no muss no fuss over the plate.
a plastic plate. The boy is a good friend. He can wash it if he wants to reuse it, but he can chuck it just the same. Or...
a glass plate. The boy is a keeper. For this step, there are several opportunities available. You either have a chance to go back and get it to see him again, or he can bring it by to see you again. With this, he can either give it back dirty, give it back clean, or give it back with something else on it.
Very nice theory, I think.
Yesterday I thought I would be so clever and cute. I made a little plate of cookies on a nice china plate, wrote a little note, and had John Deere leave it on Steve's bed. He called later that afternoon to thank me for the cookies, and say he was glad he's a glass plate guy. When he came to visit that night, he brought back a plate, but I took one look at it and laughed that it wasn't ours. He seemed flustered, and ran out the door to get the right one. I thought it was so funny that he could have mistaken the two because they were completely different. But like two seconds later, he comes back with the right plate, Saran wrapped with cookies and a little note of his own. I about died because I thought it was so sweet, and he was so silly.
And that is my story.
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