Father’s Day It was Father’s Day and we wanted to make that Sunday very special for our dad.
“Do you think we could prepare breakfast for Dad all by ourselves?” I asked Mum on Saturday night, right on the eve of Father’s Day.
“Of course,” said Mum, “I’m sure it’ll be the best breakfast of his life. At least he’ll never forget it, I’m sure.”
“Look, I have a plan,” Mum waved to my five-year-old brother, Chris, to come closer so that we could discuss it all together.
According to Mum’s plan, she would take Dorothy, our baby sister, for a walk early the next morning. Chris and I would cook breakfast for Dad and give it to him as a surprise. I was assigned to be the boss, which was perfectly fair as I was a year and a half older than Chris.
The next morning, I arranged all the foods on the kitchen table. Chris was watching me with respect.
“Dad always complains that Mum gives him porridge or cornflakes for breakfast. We need to make something different,” I said.
“Good idea,” nodded Chris. “Let’s make a meat pie.”
I had no reason to say no.
We took the metal thing Mum usually used when she made pies. I put some flour in it, poured in a bit of milk, and beat in one egg. Then I stirred the stuff with a spoon and it looked quite similar to the dough Mum usually used for her pie. Chris found some beef mince in the freezer and gave it to me. The mince was too hard to be spread on top the pie. After a short discussion, we decided to leave it as it was. The heat in the oven would cook it anyway.
We were careful to put some salt and pepper on the meat as Dad preferred his food spicy.
“Well, it’s almost ready,” I rubbed my hands. “Cooking is easy. Dad always says the same. Why does Mum make so much fuss about it?”
The only problem was the oven as we did not know how to switch it on. But it was not a good reason to wake up dad of course. The micro wave was a perfect alternative to the oven. We put the pie in it and turned it on.
When we were making coffee, we dropped the kettle on the floor and it obviously woke up Dad. Or it could have been the fire alarm which started to wail because we had left our pie in the micro wave a bit longer than it probably needed.
Anyway, we heard Dad’s footsteps on the staircase but his coffee was not ready yet! To save him from this disappointment, Chris opened the hot water tap, poured some water into Dad’s cup and put two tablespoons of instant coffee in it. It did not smell like the coffee from the coffee machine Mum usually made. But, on the other hand, Dad always complained that his coffee was too hot for him to drink. So hot that it, and the traffic jams of course made him late to his office. Our coffee was not hot at all.
When Dad rushed into the kitchen, he looked very surprised. The table was laid — his pie and his coffee was served perfectly in time, not like on the mornings when Mum made his breakfast.
At this very moment the doorbell rang. It was Mum with Dorothy. Mum said she had reserved a table for all of us in the coffee shop with our favourite PlayStation and asked us to hurry. Chris and I rushed to our room to get dressed. Dad was really quick with his breakfast. When we looked in the kitchen, his plate and his cup were already empty. He is a really big eater, our Dad! In the coffee shop he had a hearty breakfast too — the second one of the day. |