One of the additional quirky things my dad seems to do, in addition to his new slurpy, baby sucking noises, is his ability to systematically divide a jam packet into even squares, cut the crusts off his toast, and then make little mini pizza slices of the bread. Then he carefully applies exactly half of the jam container’s neatly sliced portions onto the bread triangles cut from half a slice of bread. Then with a knife and fork he eats it and repeats the process for the second half.
I am sitting in a local restaurant having lunch and tried to find a good photo of a jam package. I tucked away any hesitation and instead asked the waitress to bring me one (even though I was having a stir fry…) and then asked if she wanted to know why. She is the first to acknowledge that my father’s jam slicing and toast cutting ritual takes some time and dedication to accomplish.
As you can also see from the photo, it is quite hard to slice some jam into neat squares. In my case I had runny jam and was unable to complete the experiment.
The thing is, it is possible he has done this forever and I just did not notice. I left home at 18 and prior to that sitting at the dinner table was agony. I would eat so fast you could still see the steam rising off the mashed potatoes. Wait a sec…we never had mashed potatoes…maybe it was just steam from my ears.
More to come about the weird food things my parents do now and memories of childhood.