Dad vs. the Breakfast – Father’s Day!

Are you a Father? Did your kids make you breakfast this morning?


Here is another story from Sean!!952F95CB5DE3F349!799.entry



Dad is snoozing. It’s that one morning. That one morning of blessed peace and quiet he can call his own.

That one simple day he can sleep in. Silence. Golden silence.


“Shhhhhhhhhh! You’re going to wake up Dad!”

“You can’t use that for pancake mix!”

“Hey! I was going to make the bacon! Put that down!”

“Gross! The dog licked it.”

Dad shuffles in his slumber. “Go away noise.” he thinks to himself. This is Fathers Day. Noise not allowed. Big rule.

Funny thing about noise and noise makers. They don’t know how to read rules. ‘specially Dad Rules.

“Put that away, it’ll catch fire!”


“You know, bacon isn’t supposed to be THAT colour!”

“What’s that smell?”

Mom lays quietly undisturbed by the downstairs commotion. Mom has a special shield attached her ears. The unique “I hear this everyday and can’t hear it now” shield.

Dad tries to learn from Mom. But Dad’s been working. He puts the pillow over his head to hide from the suspected onslaught.

“Hey don’t use that, the cat was sniffing it!”

“Quick, hurry up before the dog gets to that it again.”

Smells are working their way upstairs. Quietly and slowly. Some are good. Yes nice delicious breakfasty smells.

And some, Dad can’t quite identify. On any level. They are TRULY unique smells.

The smells waft deeper into his senses. Dad is getting two unique reactions now.

The first of course is “Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm…… BREAKFAST!” (drool is crawling from Dad’s lips with this thought)

The second, and more mysterious is… well… Just WHAT is that second set of smells and WHY has he never smelt them before?!

But the first thought takes a bit boot and kick’s the second one in the rear end. This is Father’s day. To heck with that second thought today.

So Dad manages to lay down and konk out for an hour longer. Peace. Yes peace will happen today. Without effort. Without trial. Without thought. Blessed thoughts permeate through that simple time. For a moment. Dad dreams.

The dream roams in and crafts a life of it’s own. Dad finds himself fishing quietly on a lake with no noise. That boat becomes a plane, which turns into a rocket ship. Suddenly Dad is a superhero knocking down bad guys. The superhero is a race car driver. The race car driver is suddenly bringing about peace to others. Suddenly he wins money and brings his family to a better life. Suddenly he is a time traveler, visiting his long last younger self. Telling himself how to avoid the mistakes of the future.

And slipping in some lottery numbers for good measure.

The dream ripples and echoes. Thoughts and visions float through his head. The answer to world peac…..


(The feet tear up the stairs)




Dad’s eyes cry for a simple moment to ignore the happy voices. Just for a moment. Then of course Dad tells the eyes to shut up.

The eyes listen to Dad and open. Three beaming faces covered in soot, toast, grease, pancake batter and what appears to be some fur stare down at him smiling.

Ignoring all thoughts Dad glances, forcing a smile at the smorgasbord (or regurgitated surprise) that has appeared before him. Laying in front of Dad is a large cover to a Bin from the basement. It is covered in plates and some brown liquid spilled from a cup that appears to contain something somewhat resembling coffee. Half pink half black bacon, seven eggs of completely unique colours. Toast that appears to have some dog fur on it. Coffee that smells suspiciously like motor oil and salt. Pancakes that aren’t quite shapes or smells that can be identified.


Mom is awake now and smiling. Mother’s Day was just before and she is smiling. Smiling since she knows better than Dad what has to happen. It’s Dad’s turn.

Dad takes a bite of the least dangerous looking part of the plate. Bacon. A big chunk of blackened bacon.


Half of Dad’s wisdom tooth looks up as if to say “What were you thinking!” and yelps back in complaint. Dad ignores it and continues to chomp down.

A fork attacks part of an egg and makes it quickly disappear. Dad’s stomach has other things to say about that egg. But again. “Bugger off stomach!” Dad thinks to himself.

Ahh, the pancakes. They can’t be THAT bad. Dad begins to slice one with a fork.

It won’t slice.

“Ahhhh well done, just the way I like them.” Dad mumbles and gets the readily available steak knife to slice into it.

A full minute later Dad has a slice of pancake on the fork. Well not quite on.

More supported between the fork and the knife since the fork wouldn’t penetrate the pancake.

Dad puts the slice into his mouth. Tastes suspiciously like Sheetrock. Not quite sure WHY Dad knows what sheetrock tastes like. But that was the taste.

A readily provided napkin to wipe his mouth, and Dad sneaks away the sheetrock pancake. “Mmmmmm….” is all they hear, and see.

He’s sips of gasp of the 10W-30 Coffee and forces it down. He swallows and gets a smile on his face and puts upon the greatest act ever.

“Why, ” he pauses and mulls trying to keep it all down. “That was the most delicious breakfast ever!”

Hugs dive into Dad. From Mom too. For him being such a trooper.

The cooks march out of the room proudly, singing of the great thing they pulled off for Dad.

Soon the chefs have left, Dad is feeling a little full, or maybe ill. The motor oil salt coffee was muddling his thought process. Mom knowing what Dad is thinking, passes a bottle of Pepto Bismal and Antacid tablets; along with a clear glass of water. A peck on his cheek.

“Happy Father’s Day honey.”

The breakfast would settle by lunch. And a bottle of Seltzer would settle the rest.

Father’s Day is here and the day will be good. A quiet day of whatever will happen and will be.

To all Father’s out there that are, and all Father’s out there that will be.

Happy Father’s Day. The best is yet to come.

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