The “Mmm, whatcha cookin?” I ask as I stumble into the kitchen still half asleep.

“I found this new way of cooking eggs and bacon,” my dad responds, folding his newspaper and picking up his coffee.

“Huh, what is it?”

“Instead of cooking them in a pan you just use a baking tray and put them in the oven.”

“Won’t the eggs just end up all weird and dry?”

“Nope. It’s the same idea as when you fry them in a pan but the tops don’t stay all raw and slimy.”

I walk over to the oven and gaze at the two eggs and bacon sizzling in the tray.

“That doesn’t look like very much, are you not having any?”

“No, I already ate,” replies my dad, “I made more earlier for everyone else before you woke up, because most people wake up before eleven.”

I hold back the wish to retort with any number of defenses for my sleeping habits and a few moments later, the eggs and bacon are ready. So, I sit down to eat. Hot sauce in one hand and a fork in the other, I am prepared. Without hesitation, I dig in with the hunger of someone who hasn’t eaten since dinner the night before.

“So how is it?” he asks.

“Mmm. This is really good,” I mumble as I wolf down the first half of an egg and a slice of bacon “You were right about the eggs.”

And then he strikes. “Could I get just a little bite?” he asks as a fork seems to materialize in his hand.

“Sure,” I respond, “just don’t eat it all”

“I promise I won’t take much.”

The second I hand over the plate I know

I have made a mistake. I watch in pain as the second half of my egg disappears, and then the second piece of bacon, then the first half of the next egg.

“I thought you already ate?” I say.

“Yeah I just wanted to try yours to see if I cooked it right,” he responds.

It is the response I can’t argue with because, after all, he was the one who made me breakfast.

“I’m gonna make myself some more, do you want some?” I say already knowing the answer.

“No,” he responds, “I’m not really that hungry.”