We’re having breakfast on the patio. Dad has made us his Magic Oatmeal (he has a secret ingredient, but I am sworn to secrecy.)
As I’m waiting for him to come outside, I find an acorn on the table. I bury it in the bottom of the bowl. Let the hilarity begin.
Mo asks if the flowers next to us are real. She doubts Dad’s garden prowess? I pull off a flower and hand it to her. She plants it in my oatmeal.
Dad walks out. I ask him, “so is this flower gluten-free?” Yes, I just make this comedy up. I am a genius. Yes, he assures me.
We eat slowly, enjoying a perfect morning. Warm, sunny, frogs in the pond, birds in the trees. Paradise.
And then, I spring the joke on him. I dip down into my bowl and pull out the acorn. A-ha!!!! I declare. THIS is your secret ingredient.
Dad looks at me, in that Dad sort of way.
He pauses a minute, then says:
“You realize that’s covered in pesticide?”
Oh. I’m a goner. On the bright side, I went out with a lovely side order of gluten-free flowers …