For the love of Jif

For a mid-morning snack today,

I dug heartily into one o' these:

You can see obviously how tempting it would be to,
after getting the majority of the creamy goodness
out with a spoon,
use an index finger to get the last remnants. 

Which is a dangerous thing,
because I am also absent-minded and
don't always remember to immediately wash my hands
after.

To wit:

Sigh.

Well, I could have had this response:

But instead,

I summoned my Inner Paternal Grandmother
and thought:

It's just clothes.

Peanut butter is always worth the mess.