"Peanut butter, strawberry jam and marshmallow fluff. I call it my peanut butter parfait."
Peeling back the top slice of bread, John shoved the sandwich towards his mother's face. "See! Have a bite, Mom. It's really good."
"I don't think so...but thanks for offering. That gives me an idea. How about a sandwich-making contest tomorrow before lunch?"
"Gee, sounds like fun! Uh...can Dad be the judge?"
Following up with her 'gotcha' smirk, Mom retorted, "Hmm, I don't know if that'd be fair, Johnny. You guys always stick together."
"How about Mikey then? He'll be a great taster; he is the pickiest eater in the house. Ok?"
"Ok," Mom replied, giving John a high-five. "We have a deal and may the best sandwich-maker win."
"Wait a minute...aren't you forgetting something? What's the prize?"
"What sounds good to you, Johnny?"
"Ice cream for dessert for a whole week!" he burst out robustly.
"I knew you'd say that; as you kids say, that's my 'fav' too!"
Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough for John. Counting sheep wasn't going to work tonight. The cloud nine was sandwiches, yummy but far-out sandwiches. The entire family was excited about the contest. Dad impishly pretended to be upset he hadn't been chosen the judge. Pouting and hunching up his shoulders, he rambled around the house, his hand covering his wide-smiling lips. Mom sat tight, deep in thought, wanting perhaps to show up Johnny. He was getting too big for his teenage britches.
Morning dawned and the household was astir with copious excitement. Breakfast was hastily consumed so the contestants could access the kitchen. John was given the domain from nine-to-ten; Mom's time was ten-to-eleven.
Scurrying through the Dutch-doors at exactly nine o'clock, John made a beeline for the refrigerator. The family good-naturedly awaited the results as murmurings frequently wafted from the kitchen area. Cupboard doors opened and shut, and drawers slid in and out. Silverware jingled here and there and the splashing of water at times held sway.
Ten o'clock arrived. Flushed and sweaty, John pushed through the doors as Mom disappeared into the kitchen. Dad and Mikey endeavored to worm the secret of John's sandwich from him, but no doing. Mum was the word. John kept to himself as his eyes remained glued on the Dutch-doors.
Muffled noises emanated from the kitchen. A skillet clinked on the stovetop; Mom's labors had begun. Soon the sweet smelling aroma of bacon tantalized the exposed noses. A short time later she exited the kitchen, announcing with a grandiose curtsey, "The contest is on!"
Everyone shoved into the kitchen, rushing over to examine the prepared entries. John's sandwich was composed of two slices of white bread, gobs of peanut butter oozing out onto the plate, banana slices and an overwhelming presence of mayonnaise. Mom's entry was two slices of whole wheat bread, crisp bacon slices, one large lettuce leaf and a tomato slice lathered with a hint of Miracle Whip salad dressing.
Hushed oohs and aahs permeated the air as Mikey stepped up to the plates.
Taking a bite of Mom's sandwich first, he made a funny face when the tomato slice squished under the bacon and slid out onto the plate, resulting in a bite consisting only of bread and bacon.
Next came the test of John's humongous sandwich. Sucking in a big gulp of air, Mikey set his teeth into the sandwich, grabbing a glob of peanut butter, a banana slice and a smattering of mayonnaise. Swallowing came quickly and immediately.
"Well?" Mom inquired in a chipper voice. "Which one did you like best?"
"I like Johnny's! It gots lots of peanut butter on it!"
"Alright!" yelled the winner. "I beat you, Mom! Bring on the ice cream!"
"Congratulations, Johnny!" the family yelled in unison, "Well done!" Hugs were all around as the family delighted in their enjoyable adventure.