I came home from work one day this week and Dad came downstairs with a question for me. Actually he came downstairs with a dance for me. He said, "I just made some tomato rice soup. I could put the leftovers in the fridge. Or..."
And then he proceeded to do a little dance, all the while singing:
"I could put it in a bowl for you! Put it in a bowl for you! Put it in a bowl! Put in a bowl! Put it in a bowl for you!"
Now, to be honest, I didn't really want any soup at the start of his little speech, and was getting ready to say, "No thank you," but that little diddy by Daddy won me over. I said, "Put it in a bowl for me!" like a cheerleader. You could tell he was pleased with his success in performing a persuasive concert.
Then I told him, in my best I'm-your-only-precious-daughter voice, "You know what else you could do? You could make a grilled cheese sandwich to go with it."
The flamboyant father before me fell suddenly slack and gave me a teenager-with-attitude smirk, dropped his shoulders, and said, "Why would I do that?" Apparently his generosity was limited.
I laughed. He disappeared upstairs.
I went upstairs about five minutes later, and on the counter was a bowl of soup.
And a grilled cheese sandwich, on a plate, cut in half.
When I came home from my semester in Namibia in college, Dad picked me up from the airport. Mom was at work, Riley was at school, so Dad held up their homemade "Welcome Home" poster in the terminal for a jet-lagged, bleach blonde, (little chubbier :) Bailey. When we got in the car, he had a Dr Pepper ready for me, and then he let me know we could go anywhere in the city to eat whatever I had been craving for the last three months.
I thought about it, and said, "You know what, I think I just want to go home."
When we pulled in the garage I informed him, "I can help with my suitcase in a little while, but right now I need to see the cat." Understanding, he said, "Do whatever you have to do," and I went inside and lavished the animal with kisses. Dad lugged in my suitcase, and as I remember, promptly took my clothes to the washer as I was most certainly on my last pair of clean underwear, and then made me lunch.
Grilled cheese, tomato soup.
We ate in the living room, and watched a rerun of Dharma & Greg.
Somehow midday soup and sandwich (historically Dad's staple meal) with Dad seemed to be what I had been missing for three months, more than Chipotle burritos or the best crab rangoon in all of Kansas City.