Alex examines the cats as they fight, 3 lb Alice versus 12 lb Tiger.  “He’s not hurting the new kitten, she just meows when he pins her down.”

I pull a tomato out for my sandwich and look for something to cut it with.  “So she whines when she’s losing.”

Alex shakes his head and teases: “Just like a woman.”  Tossing a look over his shoulder to meet my glare, he straightens abruptly.  “Oh, you’re holding a knife.”  Placating grin.  “I love you!”

I hold back laughter to keep glowering.  “Uh huh.”

He says that every time we make sandwiches — “Oh, you’re holding a knife.”  Every time I set the knife down, he makes some wisecrack, and every time I pick it up, he nervously tells me he loves me.  It’s pretty hard to keep a straight face.

He even has a meter he created to rank his jokes, from “I just got stabbed” at the top to “chuckle-worthy” in the middle to “meh” at the bottom.  The closer he gets to me stabbing him, the better the joke.