The Husband went to France last week and brought home a yoghurt maker. I wasn't too keen at first because between making focaccia and pizza and ratatouille... I was feeling somewhat overworked and NOT paid.
Me: I didn't ask for a yoghurt maker. Yoghurt, we can buy.
The Husband: I got it for you as a gift.
Me: Really? You will make yoghurt for me?
The Husband: *Stunned Silence*. Gentle Joy can make yoghurt. The Daughter can make yoghurt. Little Boy can try too. It would be fun.
Me: And you? You won't try?
The Husband: Ah yes! Me... yes, yes, of course I can try.
But well, when the yoghurt maker arrived, guess who actually made yoghurt. Yes... Petunia did. And I love it. The yoghurt that comes out is smooth and creamy. You can flavour it anything you want. Instead of the insipid atom-sized fruit bits, you can put in humongous blocks of peach or longan or mango.
The first chilled mouthful stretches out languorously over your tongue... it feels something like stretching out on a cold bed on a hot day. There is soft and there is smooth. There is creamy and there is fruit. A little tart, and something sweet
But I know that whenever The Husband says "I bought you a gift", it means he bought himself one. He will ever refer to it as HIS yoghurt maker just as he is wont to refer to HIS frangipani tree and HIS grapes.