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A Story in Honor of Father’s Day
By Jeff | June 15, 2007
A little story about a father’s sacrifice, a son’s love, and a corn on the cob.
One recent Sunday afternoon while my 3 yr old son was on the couch playing and watching tv and I was working on this website, my wife began to cook dinner. Isn’t she the greatest? Why yes… yes she is! Anyway, it’s a well-known fact (at least in my household) that I love me some corn on the cob. Don’t ask me why, but - well, you can ask me why, I mean, I’m not going to tell you what to do or how to live your life, but I just won’t have an answer for you - but I just do. It’s what I call a fun food even though it takes you like 20 minutes to pick all the corn skins from your teeth afterwards, it’s still a fun food to eat. Of course, we have those little yellow, kind of flat, ears-of-corn-shaped corn on the cob holders that just add to the eating experience. Corn on the cob, it’s what’s for dinner! But, I digress. So my wife asks me how many I want because the ones she has to cook are half the size of normal cobs. So I’m thinking that I’ll be eating a full chicken breasts with BBQ sauce, cheese, and bacon on top with a salad and some bread and I’m trying to watch my figure, so I answer something to the effect of, “One is fine.” Plus, I felt like I was making it easier on my hard-working wife by cooking less; although, it would have only taken about 2 seconds to put another one in the steamer, that’s really beside the point.
Now it’s dinner time. We gather around the table and get our plates prepared and ready for food consumption. Matthew sings the prayer that he’s learned at his daycare in what my wife thinks is the sweetest voice in the history of the entire known universe. I look at my plate and I have the smallest corn on the cob that I have ever seen - well except for those little baby corns you find in Thai food, Chinese food, and many salad bars - but those don’t really count. Inside my head, in my own personal white-boy/ghetto-fabulous attitude way, I’m thinking “no, no girlfriend. This ain’t no half a cob; it’s more like a third… biatch!” (Okay, those weren’t my exact thoughts and I didn’t call my wife a biatch, but I thought it would be really funny for this story.) After a short discussion with my wife about how small the corn on the cob was and how big I consider half to be, we agreed that in the future she, or I, would add more corn to the steamer. Now let me add that there was no bitterness in our voices nor argumentative behavior during our discussion.
With all things settled and food on my plate, it was time to stop my diplomatic exchange and consume the wonderful plate of food that was prepared for me. I buttered my corn and added a few shakes of salt and pepper as my mouth began to water with anticipation. But alas, my corn on the cob would have to wait because I wanted to save it for last. And yes, I am one of those freaks that eat one item at a time. I don’t like my food to mix. I don’t know if my son is simply trying to emulate me or if somehow my love of corn on the cob genes were passed down to him, but my son ate his corn on the cob first. At 3 and a half years old, it seemed quite a good feat for him to eat the whole thing but he did. However, there was a problem. Like me, he wanted more than the half (or third, depending on your perspective) that was on his plate.
“Can I have some more corn?â€
Those words may forever haunt me. How can I deny my son his love of corn on the cob when I have some to give? Then again, I helped pay for the corn and I’m bigger and stronger, and no one can fault me for eating what was on my plate, I mean, that’s what I was taught growing up. Then all of a sudden, I picked up my perfectly buttered and seasoned corn on the cob and placed it on my son’s plate. It’s time for my son to live my legacy and I am willing to do whatever it takes to help him in that endeavor; yes, even sacrifice my lone corn on the cob. Without even realizing the great sacrifice that was made for him, my son smiled, pointed to his newly found corn on the cob and said to his mother, “I got corn.†He then proceeded to take a bite. Then, my heart was filled with glee and my fatherly pride swelled up inside me. My son placed the very corn on the cob that I had given him back on my plate and uttered the greatest sentence on the face of the earth.
“You can have it.â€
Victory! Victory! I truly believe that my son noticed that momma had corn and he had corn, but daddy had no corn at all anymore. That, my friends, is how one father sacrificed for his son because he loved him and a son’s love for his father helped him return the favor. Yes, the Force is strong in that one. Job well done, Jeff, job well done.
Topics: corn on the cob, father and son, father's day, sacrifice |
June 16th, 2007 at 1:49 pm
I’m not sure where to start. That’s hilarious. I would give you a pat on the back, but it seems you’re doing enough of that for both of us. LOL But, I do wonder if your (apparently very patient wife) had anything to do with your son’s generosity… Just something to consider.
June 16th, 2007 at 5:48 pm
First of all… thanks. I was laughing before I even typed it out.. second of all, yes she’s patient, but this was a father-son moment… it’s Father’s Day weekend! lol