Switzerland has cheese. And by cheese, we don't mean that namby-pamby mild stuff you Americans call cheese. We mean real cheese. (Incidentally, I've been known to pay $12 a pound for some cheddar cheese. It's rare around here.)
Jason loves cheese. The stinkier the better. Daniel is just like his father and adores cheese. When we pass the cheese aisle in the grocery store he says, "cheese! cheese!"
Yesterday I bought a new kind of cheese. I decided on it because it was 1. on sale and 2. had a sunflower on the label. I thought it looked cheerful.
We had some for lunch and it was so nasty that I couldn't overcome the smell to even taste it. Daniel and Jason, of course, ate some. Jason described the smell as vomit that had been sitting in one of Daniel's diapers for several days.
This morning, Jason yelled up the stairs, "This cheese is really good!"
"Which cheese?" I asked. (We always have several in the house.)
"The diaper-vomit cheese," he said.
Umm, yum. I promise to protect you from this cheese.