Fine Print

On one of the favorite TV shows in our house is The Big Bang Theory. We get a kick out of the very anal-retentive character Sheldon, who is book smart -- genius actually -- but runs a little low on tact and relating to other humans.

Before his roommate Leonard could "qualify" to live there, he had to pass several Sheldon personality tests and sign the dotted line on a very, very, very extensive Sheldon-authored roommate agreement, covering every topic from TV viewing and takeout meals to girlfriends and scheduled bowel movements.

Last night while Carter and I were eating at Culver's (after a double no-cavity appointment for us at the dentist), Carter suggested Dad and I have a roommate agreement. Apparently the day before, Dad had picked him up after school and when they drove past Culver's they saw the Flavor of the Day was Mint Avalanche. He said Dad was going to call or text me but they would have been past it by the time I responded.

So, Carter concluded, we need a roommate agreement. "That way Dad will know if you want Mint Avalanche or Mint Chip at Culver's every time they have it or just once a week or month and what size."

I like how he thinks.

I suggested it to hubby and he nodded with a huge grin on his face. He's all for creating one. What could possibly go wrong with that?

I could tell by the gleam in his eye I better withdraw my suggestion. I will NOT be signing on any dotted lines after the ice cream section!

Or I can always just get it myself.