When I was in the first grade at PS 67 we had a "gym?" class just before lunch. An inexperienced teacher had us put our bagged lunches in a pile. When lunch period came nobody whose sandwich was whose. No mom had the forsight to stitch their offsprings' initials into either white or rye. So the teacher just waved the waxed-papered sandwiches in the air and called out their contents, hoping that she would get through her day without too many broken hearts among us kiddies.
Anyways, I was hungry, and picked one of the first sandwiches proffered. It turned out to be baloney and cheese on white. But hey, I'm not about to hang out like a famine-stricken six-year old desperado looking for my favorite: PB and Jelly on rye.
There was this one kid who puckered up like he just saw his puppy, maybe even puppies, run over by a John Deere. He said his mom had made it and started bawling. Since I was already far into the cheese & baloney, I told him to just suck it up, and that there ain't nothing that beats a PB & Jelly on rye.
Turns out that he had in his hands my PB & Jelly on rye, and he had no idea what he had. Some kids'll never grow up right.