Who loves and praises you?

Oh my dad surely does. When he cooks a steak, it's practically a celebration in itself to have it sitting on your plate. Nevermind my raw food/vegan shenanigans lately, but I've never much cared for steak and I'm sure that special place in his heart is a little broken because of it. So when we got home tonight and I was appointed cooking duties, I gleefully shouted out, "Just so's ya knows....it's salad tonight!" I think my dad started crying on the inside a little, but I added chicken as a compromise. After the salad was made, and devoured, my darling dad says a little gruffly, "It's bland. But it's good." and said I did a good job. Go me! I don't see this as a I-have-to-compliment-you're-not-cooking-skills-because-your-my-daughter kind of thing. My dad liked it, I know he did but he'll never admit it. He knows I know he liked it. As in the picture above with the unplanned yet eerily similar facial expressions, my dad and I have mad skillz in silent communication that frequently befuddles my mother.