FATHER'S DAY WITH MY MOTHER-IN-LAW : PUBLISHED IN A GROUP OF NEWSPAPERS

                                         

                                               FATHER’S DAY WITH

                                               MY MOTHER-IN-LAW

                                                      

                                                     

           

  

       “IHOP?” Yes I said IHOP!” I was speaking to Toby, my mother-in-law.

         “Really IHOP? I thought you’d want something more special than IHOP for Father’s Day?” Toby insisted.

         “To me IHOP is very special. Where else can I get hash browns & Swedish crepes on the same plate?” I asked.

          “Don’t get me wrong, I’m a very big fan of IHOP as well, but you know its just, well IHOP” said Toby. “I thought you liked Bickford’s. You always order their crepes and seem quite happy with them,” continued Toby.

         “You’re right,” I noted, but Bickford’s doesn’t serve hash browns, they serve home fries! Hapless, limp, lumpy, boring home fries! 

         “Wait a second,” Toby insisted, I know I’ve heard you say many times that Denny’s hash browns are the best.”

           “Yes they are by far. They truly glisten. They come crispy and practically scream, ‘Eat me while I’m still warm! But and this is a huge But, Denny’s doesn’t have crepes. Which makes IHOP the perfect fit.

            I told Toby, “Dana and I will pick you up at 10:40 sharp. This way we will arrive at the restaurant at 11:00 AM. Most people who came for breakfast will have eaten and left. The lunch people will be coming around 12:00. It will be perfect, plus how many people will want to go to IHOP on a special day like Father’s Day? Right?”

          Wrong! We arrived there at exactly 11:00. Checked in with the hostess. “It will be about a fifty minute wait, give or take,” she said.

          We sat on the hard bench tantalized by the aroma of crispy bacon and buttered toast. Finally our turn came. As we were ushered to our booth, I checked the food as we passed by the other tables. Mostly blueberry pancakes, no one had hash browns or crepes. “What do these people know?” I thought.

           The waitress was prompt and lovely. She brought large coffee pitchers for Dana and her mother. I don’t drink the stuff, but I do love its aroma.  I ordered two poached eggs on dry rye and of course, crispy hash browns and the Swedish crepes. While we waited Toby reached into her pocketbook and took out a sealed envelope and handed it to me. I opened it and silently read her words.

       “Thank you for the weekly phone calls when Dana is unavailable.

         Thank you for always bringing that special bottle of wine for my friends and me to enjoy.

          Thank you for bringing and sharing your wonderful published stories.

          Thank you for cherishing my daughter.”

           I finished and placed it back in its envelope.

         “Take it back out and read it to us,” cried Dana

           First I read Toby’s touching words out loud. But it wasn’t enough praise for me.

         I had been infected by our president, so in my own Trumpian way, I added my

own words to Toby’s.

        “I get to see and even meet a lot of son-in laws at my place, but there is no son-in-law as remarkable and as wonderful as you. Nobody knows how to son- in-law as well as you! You should teach son-in-lawing.”

           Toby and Dana both grinned and in unison said, “My, aren’t you the creative one.”

         The food arrived. The hash browns were undercooked and the crepes were cold. The waitress sensing my displeasure, “Our cook is making a fresh batch of home fries, could I bring you a plate on the house?”