Mark was grousing about his dinner last night, yet he managed to eat every last bite.
"I guess you liked your burrito," I said.
"I liked everything but the chicken," he answered. (The burrito was chicken, salsa and a tortilla.)
I frowned.
"I don't know what to make you any more," I said. "You don't like chicken, and suddenly, you don't like steak either. What are you, a vegetarian now?"
He immediately answered, "No, I'm a dessertarian." He smiled at me, his little eyes twinkling, and I couldn't help but laugh.
"Me, too," I said.
And realized that the only thing more dangerous than having a wicked sweet tooth is living with someone else who's got an even sweeter tooth. Especially if they're cute, charming and can easily talk you into caving in to that sweet tooth!
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