World' Best Husband is preparing to take a business trip.
(Wait, which sounds cooler - 'a business trip' or 'a gig'? He's got that coveted gig, one that combines public speaking with performing. And with paying the mortgage. Incidentally. But it does mean he'll be away for a night, and it does mean he gets to obsess about packing - material for the show, clothes, promo materials, the magical Sleep Machine. Dude, it's like he's going on Galactica. I am trying to sneak the baby into one of his bags, and it seems there's little chance he'll notice, except that the baby would eat all the granola bars for the trip and then what?)
Him: "Well, I have the cooler for the trip, and some Gatorades, and...hmmm, what's in this Target bag? Ah! Snacks'n'maps!
Me: Did you say "Snacks'n'Maps"?
Him: Yes! Snacks'n'Maps!
Me: And should that be the name of our national chain of roadside stands? "Snacks'n'Maps"?
Him: Yes! I believe it should! "Snacks'n'Maps"!
Me: Or maybe "Maps'n'Snacks"?