Dear Marge,
I would like to tell you a little story about breakfast...
* * * * * * * *
I woke up knowing i just farted from the cold. Not sure if i smelled it, or i just felt i did, or i simply assumed i just farted because the cold weather has been making me fart a lot lately.
After reading the above, please look up “fart.”
Done? Great. Let’s keep going...
You and your mom were already awake, and i quickly offered to do what i’ve been doing for your mom for the past ten years. No, silly. Not THAT (whatever it is you’re thinking). I meant breakfast. As in pancakes and bacon. As expected, you pleaded to join me down to the kitchen. The photo above shows you trying your hand at stirring the batter.Now these photos show you eating, while i finished up the stack, then followed by photos of us bringing it to mom.
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| numnumnum... |
There. That was this morning. It’s a Saturday.
‘catch you later.
Love,
Dad
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you giving mommy a hug after serving her breakfast. The camera on the phone fogged up. resulting in this stupid blurry photo. |
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| you offered me a bite. |
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| parting shot |
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