As I sat at the dining table, my dad asked me the same question he always did: "What do you want for dinner tonight?"
I rolled my eyes and casually replied, "Just bring home some chicken fingers, Dad."
My dad, a renowned chef who owned eight successful restaurants, looked at me with a mix of amusement and exasperation. He had spent years perfecting his craft, creating exquisite dishes loved by customers all over the city. And yet, here I was, his own child, requesting something as simple and mundane as chicken fingers.
But I didn't care. I had never been one to appreciate gourmet meals or fancy ingredients. To me, food was just something to fill my stomach, nothing more. And while I knew my dad was disappointed that I didn't share his passion for cooking, I couldn't bring myself to care.
So night after night, my dad would return home with a bag of crispy, golden chicken fingers, much to the dismay of his culinary colleagues. But for me, it was the perfect meal - simple, comforting, and familiar. And as I sat at the table, happily munching on my favorite dish, I couldn't help but feel grateful for a dad who always indulged my unrefined taste buds, no matter how much it may have irked him.
Make a story talking about how I don’t care to the following sentence: my dad is a chef and owns 8 restaurants and when he asks me what i want for dinner i always ask him to bring home chicken fingers
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