©2011 Susan Noyes Anderson
I'll make a bet with you, Dad said.
(The desert heat was roasting.)
I'll cook your breakfast right out here.
I thought that he was boasting.
Why, everybody knows that eggs
can't fry up on the ground.
But I was wrong; I knew it when
I heard that sizzling sound.
I looked down, and my jaw dropped.
I cried out with sheer delight.
That egg was frying on the sidewalk!
What an awesome sight.
Dad handed me a fork, and
my enthusiasm fled.
I take my eggs with hash browns,
but he gave me grit(s) instead.