My dad makes me smile. He appears to be the most unemotional man on the face of the planet, but I’ve learned how to read him.
My mom doesn’t eat beef. Never has, never will. And while she claims that it’s okay if you cook it in her house, I’ve never tried. I suspect that there would be much fussing if I did.
So, when my dad and I get together without my mom, we eat beef. And there are few things that make me smile more than when my dad calls to say, “hi, just thinking of you. Wondering if you want to go for burgers this week.”
