It is a trickier thing than one might imagine preparing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for a pregnant woman. After all, the husband usually receives the customer's order at the oddest hours and she is normally hanging onto consciousness by the barest thread. If, in this situation, the drowsy husband simply shovels great piles of peanut butter and grape jelly onto wheat bread, sticky fingers, stained pajamas and an irritable wife are the likely outcome. But woe unto him who seeks to avoid folly by miserliness. At his own peril will he return from the kitchen with a skinny PB&J. He may avoid the mess, but his economy with the condiments will not abate her irritation.
Having become, in the course of the last 30 weeks, a master of the midnight PB&J, I feel compelled to share my wisdom with my comrades. If any husband wishes to survive these midnight cravings he must learn to construct the sandwich in the proper manner. The following may also serve as a fine introductory course in PB&J theory for a youngster of five or six.
There are a few simple principles that must be carefully observed. First, take two adjacent slices of bread from the loaf and open them upon the counter so that the two adjacent sides now lie face up. Second, apply peanut butter to one slice of bread only. If both slices are coated, jelly will simply squeeze out of the sandwich and onto the nearest white linens. If this rule is observed, you may pile peanut butter on the bread to your heart's content, just don't put it on both slices. Third, clean the remaining peanut butter from the knife under running water. Do not lick it clean! I mean, really, you are about to stick it in the jelly jar, from which other people may one day wish to eat. Even if the other members of your household are disgusting and don't mind, you may have company one day. Or maybe some unsuspecting neighbor drops in and asks for a tablespoon of grape jelly. I never was able to persuade my college roommate of the validity of this argument and I have never forgiven him for corrupting the jelly jar. The same principle applies to the ice cream scoop, by the way. Fourth, using a clean knife, apply the jelly liberally to the remaining slice of bread. Be sure to spread it around firmly; the pressure of the knife forces the jelly into the air pockets in the bread so that it won't slide around. Finally, put the two pieces of bread together so that they stand in the same relation to one another as they were in the loaf. Now you have a satisfying PB&J, no stained pajamas, and a very pleased wife.
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