Lala had been curious all week. Her dad often told her funny stories about his college days—late-night study sessions, noisy roommates, and the times he survived on nothing but one special meal from the little food stall near campus. “It wasn’t fancy,” Dad said with a nostalgic smile, “but it was my favorite dish in the whole world.”
One Saturday afternoon, Dad finally decided it was time for Lala to try it too. “Come on,” he said, taking her hand. “I’m going to make you the dish that kept me alive during college!” Lala’s eyes sparkled with excitement. She followed him into the kitchen, ready for this mysterious treat.
Dad gathered the ingredients: noodles, eggs, green onions, soy sauce, and a few secret spices he claimed only “true college survivors” knew how to mix. Lala giggled as he cracked eggs with dramatic flair, tossing them into the pan. “In college,” Dad said proudly, “I used to make this in a tiny dorm kitchen with just one pan. It was my masterpiece!”
The smell of sizzling noodles filled the house, making Lala’s stomach growl. She sat at the table, tapping her hands impatiently while Dad plated the dish. Finally, he placed a steaming bowl in front of her. “Here it is—Dad’s legendary college noodles!”
Lala took her first bite and her eyes lit up. “Wow! This is sooo good!” she exclaimed. Dad laughed, relieved that his old favorite had impressed her. They ate together, and Lala kept asking for more, giggling at the thought of Dad eating the same dish every day back then.
When the last noodle was gone, Lala leaned back happily. “Dad, I think this should be our special dish now,” she said. Dad’s heart warmed at her words. Sharing that simple meal had turned into something more meaningful—a new family memory.
From that day forward, whenever Lala wanted to feel close to her dad, she’d ask for “the college noodles.” And Dad, with a smile, would happily cook them again, proud that his old favorite had now become Lala’s, too.
