The other morning, I decided to make a ham and cheese omelet for breakfast. I didn’t have any reason for it. It was purely just because I was in the mood for something different.

The kids loved it.

“Wow,” my youngest said. “This is really good.”

“Glad you like it.” I said around a mouthful of egg.

“No,” he said. “I mean it’s really good.”

“Thanks.”

“I knew you had it in you,” his older brother said. “I just knew it.”

I looked at the big guy for a moment, but could detect no trace of sarcasm or humor. My wife, on the other hand, had her hand over her mouth, covering her smile.

I sighed. “Thanks.”

His good deed done for the day, the master egg chef nodded and went back to eating.

Sheesh.

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