Daughter: Dad, Dad. What’s for breakfast?
Dad: [Dad mumbles something]
Daughter: Dad?
Dad: What?
Daughter: What’s for breakfast?
Dad: Uh, there’s a banana on the kitchen counter. Enjoy.
Daughter: Dad, that banana’s all bruised, and it looks like the cat took a bite out of it last night . . . Dad. Wake up.
Dad: Ugh, Okay. Uh, there’s some cereal in the cupboard. Help yourself.
Daughter: But there’s no milk.
Dad: Well, just mix up some powdered milk.
Daughter: Ah, no way. That stuff is nasty and warm. Come on, Dad.
Dad: Uh, okay. I guess I could make some pancakes.
Daughter: Uh, no. The last time you made pancakes, they were as hard as a rock. Even the dog wouldn’t touch them.
Dad: That bad? [Yeah.] Alright. Wait! Why in the world are we having this conversation anyway? You’re 19 years old. Make your own breakfast. I’m going back to bed.
Daughter: Because you love me . . . plus you said that you’d make something for me if I cleaned the dishes last night.
Dad: Okay. How about some eggs and bacon? I can’t go wrong there.
Daughter: Okay, but don’t put any of that funny stuff in it . . . you know, those weird mushrooms like you did last time.
Dad: Okay, okay. So, you want me to keep things simple, right?
Daughter: Exactly. But, please hurry. My friend is picking me up in a few minutes.
Dad: On a Saturday morning?
Daughter: Yeah. He’s taking me fishing.
Dad: Fishing? Since when did you start liking fishing?
Daughter: Since Dirk gave me this ring! What do you think?
Dad: What? Wait. I’m not going to ask. Let me get breakfast on the table . . . Then, we’ll have a long chat.
Daughter: Oh, he’s here. I’ll just take the $20 bill out of your wallet. I can buy breakfast on the way. Bye.
Dad: Oh, no!