Momnesia

We're joking about all of T.G.'s many packages of Saltines. His wife jokes that you can always find him by following the empty American cheese wrappers. It morphs into the idea of eating crackers when you're sick. I don't know how, but that's where we went.

"Crackers?" T. asks.
"And Sprite," A.C. and I agree.
"Crackers and Sprite?" he questions.
"Yep. If you can't keep those down, my mother's wisdom said, you can't keep anything down," I laughed.
"It doesn't stain if you throw it up," J.C. tossed in. Thanks for that, by the way.
"Okay, crackers and Sprite." T. says, shaking his head.
"And bananas," A.C. says.
...
"Bananas?!" I ask.
"Banana popsicles, maybe," J.C. says.
"Well, no, bananas," she insists. "The doctor always said bananas, crackers, Sprite, applesauce..."
"Applesauce?!" I repeat. (You'd think I have a hearing problem).
"That's those Statesboro doctors," J.C. jokes.
"Is that where the doctor and the vet are the same person?" A.W. asks.

At least he's not also the taxidermist.