In the midst of our Christmas food frenzy, my phone was passed from my my sticky, onion-and-garlic-covered hand to my brother's clean one (he appreciated that) so he could send good wishes to the thirty New York relatives on the other end.
Brother: "Hey, Dad, we're having a great time and eating some great food! Sunday we had Italian, last night was Indian, and tonight is Mexican!"
Dad's deadpan comment: "What's wrong with American?"
Sorry, we were fresh out of hot dogs.
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