We had this
"I'm an old wife," I said. "Does that make everything I say bullshit?"
"I just want to know where you heard this," he said, all fake wide-eyed. "Is there any proof?"
Now this is a man who once made Annie's Mac & Cheese with banana yogurt because he was out of milk. And he's asking me to provide scientific evidence on the proper handling and storage of berries? He's the guy who can't, no matter how many times I explain it, remember the difference between salted and unsalted butter and which one should go in the butter dish (hint: one is salted) , and he's requires a citation beyond my "everybody knows that you shouldn't wash berries until you plan on eating them."
I make dinner for our family almost every night, and my husband is always wholeheartedly appreciative of this fact. His amazement at what I can do with a few vegetables, a legume and a grain is seemingly sincere. In fact, I don't think I have ever made a meal he didn't enjoy. But still he doubts me when I say, "Don't wash all those damn berries; they're going to go bad, dummy."
Why? Because husbands, even actors, can't take direction. See this face:
the way he stands.