Children | Gift | Humor | Love | Mother | Service

On Mother’s Day all over the country, grateful moms are pushed back into their pillows, the flower on their bird-of-paradise plant (which blooms every other year for 15 minutes) is snipped and put in a shot glass, and a strange assortment of food comes out of a kitchen destined to take the sight from a good eye. A mixer whirs, out of control, then stops abruptly as a voice cries, “I’m telling.” A dog barks and another voice says, “Get his paws out of there. Mom has to eat that!” Minutes pass and finally, “Dad! Where’s the chili sauce?” Then, “Don’t you dare bleed on Mom’s breakfast!” The rest is a blur of banging doors, running water, rapid footsteps and a high pitched, “YOU started the fire! YOU put it out!” The breakfast is fairly standard: a water tumbler of juice, five pieces of black bacon that snap in half when you breathe on them, a mound of eggs…

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