When I was a children, my mom was especial fond of trying new recipes. She even started baking bread. One evening, my mom placed some burnt bread in the front of my dad. I kept silent to see that my father noticed the bread burnt. Yet my father seemed not have found anything unusual. All he does was to eat his bread, smile to my mom, and ask me how my day at school was. I don't remember what I told him, and I do remember watch him eat the burnt bread! When my mom apologized, she said:"My dear, I love everything cooking by you."
