A mom and dad are in the kitchen early Monday morning. The father is reading the paper while the mother is making a breakfast of fried eggs for her teenage son. Birds are chirping while the sun shines brightly through the windows. Bouncing down the stairs, the boy bursts into the kitchen.
"Careful! CAREFUL! Put in some more butter, " he screams. "Oh geez, that’s too many eggs. You’re cooking too many at once. TOO MANY!"
Aghast, the mom and dad stare in bewilderment.
"Give me the paper," the teenager continued. "Where’s the sports? Did you lose the sports? I can’t believe it, the sports section is missing. Watch the eggs. Get that butter. They’re going to stick. BE CAREFUL! Don’t you ever listen to me?"
With arms waving and a face that was beet-red, the boy frantically paced back and forth. He was on a roll.
"You know I like the sports section. How many times to we have to go over that? The eggs are sticking! Turn them. NOW! What could you possibly be thinking? And the salt. Don’t forget the damn salt. You ALWAYS forget the salt."
Finally, there’s a moment of silence. The dad asks, "What’s wrong with you? Don’t you think your mother can fry a couple of eggs?"
The boy shrugged, sipped his orange juice and calmly replied, "I just thought you should know how the two of you made me feel at yesterday’s game."