Here’s a lovely little story, and don’t we all need something like that now.
A boy’s Mom (had) served the family burnt toast at the table. The boy learned a lesson from his father that he would never forget.
When I was about eight or nine, my mom burnt some toast .
One night that stood out in my mind is when she had made dinner for us after a very long and rough day at work, She placed a plate of jam and extremely burned toast in front of my dad. Not slightly burnt but completely blackened toast.
I was just waiting to see if anyone noticed the burnt toast and would say anything. But Dad just ate his toast and asked me if I did my homework and how my day was. I don’t remember what I told him that night, but I do remember hearing my mom apologizing to dad for burning the toast. And I’ll never forget what he said:
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My Miscellania 