Fish For Breakfast

Yesterday my Dad, Joe and I went to Easter brunch. The idea of this gave me knots in my stomach all week. Whenever I observe Joe’s picky eating habits, all I can think is “Oh my God, maybe I did marry my father.”

A few years ago my sister and I took our Dad to Sunday brunch for the first time. It was the best brunch in town, but the concept was completely lost on him. As we walked around I heard him muttering things like “fish for breakfast?” He loaded up his plate with French toast and bacon and I said “Look Dad, all you can eat crab legs and peel and eat shrimp!” He looked at me with disdain and said “I’m having breakfast.”

I was not cooking Easter dinner this year. I usually do, but this year I wasn’t feeling it. I made our reservation for noon so the Misters Picky could pretend they were eating lunch. The closest that breakfast food came to touching lunch food on their plates was a little fresh fruit next to the ham. I think it was a success. Good. Now I don't have to cook next Easter either.