Can't figure out how a little ice and some sugary syrup can cost so much? Well, let me backtrack a bit.

Back on Aug. 7, I was lucky enough to get married to the beautiful Natalie. And Natalie was lucky enough to land a husband like me—a guy who learned his lessons well during a 32-year husband training session taught by my late wife Randee.

Now, Randee was a wonderful school teacher. But while she may have been an expert at teaching California history and the like to a classroom full of fourth graders, she was even a better teacher when it came to instructing me on how to be a husband.

She taught me to never buy clothes for her at Mervyn's if there was a Nordstrom nearby; that Safeway is a great place to buy broccoli, but if it was meant to sell flowers they would call it Safeway FTD; and that costume jewelry is fine for a Halloween costume, but real jewelry is measured in karats.

Still, maybe the most important lesson I learned during my many years in the husband training program was two little words—"Yes, dear." And if I repeated those words at the correct time, I would never get in any trouble.

So with those lessons fully ingrained in my brain, I reentered the holy union of matrimony for the second time in my life. Now, don't think for a moment that just because I'm mentioning this training and all this "yes, dear" junk that it's some assault on my masculinity. After all, I am the man of the house, and what I say is the ... uh, wait a minute, I think I hear Natalie coming ... oh, no, it's just the dog ... now, what was I saying? Oh yeah, the man of the house ... that's me. I just let her think she's in charge.

Or is it the other way around?

There was the incident of the living room furniture. I wanted it a certain way, and explained that to her in no uncertain terms. She stared at me for a long time, then said, "No, I think we'll set it up this way." I ended the controversy quickly by getting in the final words—"Yes, dear."

Then there was that issue with the baseball memorabilia in the family room. "I think it looks great in here," I said. Again, the long stare, then, "I think it would look great in your office." Once again I ended the debate—"Yes, dear."

Which brings me back to Hawaii. We were honeymooning in Maui, which seems to have become the honeymoon capital of the world. We didn't have too much in common with the other just-marrieds on the island, though. Most of them were somewhere between the age of our youngest children and my oldest pair of shoes. They all looked trim and fit in their swimsuits, for the most part had all of their original hair, and could dance the night away. But we had something they didn't have—the senior discount.

And here's a tip for any husband sitting on a beach in Maui surrounded by young twentysomethings in swimsuits. If your wife asks, "Are you looking at that blond in the bikini? Don't I look as good in my swimsuit as she does?" Now trust me on this one, guys, there is only one way to answer this question if you want any peace on the rest of your vacation.

"No, dear," I replied, "And, yes, dear."

Now, that's some savvy husband training!

And that leads me back to the beginning. We were walking the streets of Lahaina town, said to be the second most visited spot on Maui after its beaches, when I spotted a sign down the street for Hawaiian shaved ice. As we headed down the sidewalk, my sights were planted firmly on the sign with my brain focused on "do I want raspberry or root beer" when I felt a tug on my sleeve.

The next thing I knew my vision of shaved ice was replaced by artistic renderings. Natalie had pulled me into a gallery of oceanic art.

"Wouldn't this look beautiful in our living room?" she asked. And this is where my husband training failed me.

"Yes, dear," I replied without really thinking. Moments later we were the proud owners of a dolphin sculpture and my American Express card took a hit of more than $2,400 ... and, no, they did not offer a senior discount!

Moments later, my head still reeling from the expensive detour, we were back on the sidewalk heading toward the Hawaiian shaved ice store with me once again trying to focus on raspberry or root beer when she said, "Why don't we just get one and share it."

That's where I draw the line.

"No, dear!" I said firmly. "I'm getting my own." And with that statement I had asserted my husband-like authority.

So there it was—dolphin sculpture, $2,489; Hawaiian shaved ice, $11; teaching my new bride who's the boss ... priceless.

Want to talk? Call me at 408.354.3110, ext. 31, or drop me a note at dsparrer@svcn.com.