"I-I…" I said, groping for lines while averting my eyes from him. "I-I'm just trying my best to cook our breakfast, Dad," I added.
He stared at me for a while before he nodded and smiled at me. When he saw me fully dressed, he couldn’t help but ask if I had an errand this morning. That question turned into the topic of our conversation. He also helped me with frying the hotdogs I had washed earlier while we were talking.
It was past six in the morning when we finished cooking. My mother was a bit stunned when my dad told her that I was the one who cooked. I let my mother praise me until I told her the truth: almost everything that is served on the table isn't made by me.
She said, "You let me finish praising you before you told me the truth," which made me burst into laughter.
Just as
