Snooze button stew

“Mmmmm….” said Dolly, audibly sniffing as she came in from school last Friday, “…that smells really good what is it when is it going to be done I’m starving!” Unfortunately …

Ideals, with Sausage Gravy

“I’m not just making breakfast,” grinned my father to me one morning long ago when my wife and I stayed at the old shore house. “I’m making THE breakfast.” I hadn’t even asked, but he probably heard my loud sniffing as I sought the source of the wonderful smell.
And so he was. It was one of our favorites, Biscuits with Sausage Gravy, bubbling away in the pot. I remember him saying that every time I make it myself, as I did this past weekend.
His offhanded observation has always stuck in my mind. It’s one of those things that shows up in my consciousness every so often, that in my head I can still see myself agreeing with, but still can’t let go without arguing about it. Which is silly, because that recipe is somewhere in my top five anyway.
A lot of things that fathers say are like that: outwardly helpful, occasionally irritating, mostly intentional, and helping to form the parental ideal you carry. It’s part of what makes me the father I want to be.
I hope my kids see it this way, and learn what I try to teach them. Hopefully, they’ll carry these things to teach to their children. So goes the cycle.
But it is still a cycle. And even though I’m now a dad, I don’t think I’ve learned everything I can from my own father. He’d probably dismiss it as just one of those things. We’ll probably argue about it sometime over breakfast.