Donuts Aren’t A Reason, They’re THE Reason

, , , , , , | Related | June 9, 2018

(Growing up, my dad religiously attended an antique show that set up one weekend a month, every month. As a teenager, though I wasn’t the antique-er he was, I had become obsessed with the mini donuts that were sold in one of the booths. They were made on an old machine that punched the dough, dropped the rings into a river of oil, and floated them down two at a time, to be gracefully flipped over by a comb so that the other side could cook. After the flip, another comb would scoop them up and flip them off the machine into the tray below. It was hypnotizing to watch, and after being sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar, they were absolutely delicious. Unfortunately, when I moved out of my parents’ house, I was unable to go with my dad anymore. However, my mother started getting into the habit of going with him. One weekend, I’m visiting, and I’m telling her about a local festival that I recently attended.)

Me: “We were walking around the concession area, and they had a [Same Brand as the antique show’s] donut maker! I was so excited! We managed to get some right before they closed for the day. [My Boyfriend] finally got to see what I’ve been telling him about!”

Mom: “Cool! Dad and I went to [Antique Show] last weekend, and I got some.” *makes a face* “He ate most of them, though; I had to get more. Hey, when was the last time you went to [Antique Show]?”

Me: “It’s probably been about two or three years.” *quietly, kind of embarrassed* “You know, those donuts were probably about 50% of the reason I went with Dad. Not that I don’t like spending time with him, but…” *shrug*

Mom: *scoffs* “They’re pretty much the only reason I go with him. Antiques are boring. I’m not afraid to say it.”

1 Thumbs
373
VOTES