When Dabao was scooped out of bed by his mom, he was still in a daze. Wearing his Ultraman pajamas, his hair stuck up in a comical arc, his eyes half-open and half-closed, like a little animal forcibly awakened from hibernation. He staggered to the bathroom and completed his washing up under his mom's direction, before being placed in the dining chair, with a set of children's tableware in front of him.
He finally opened his eyes completely and glanced at the dishes on the table. In the plate, the scrambled eggs with tomatoes were colorful and bright, red and yellow intermixed, the tomato pieces almost identical in size, arranged like some kind of fractal pattern. Next to it, the pan-fried beef was cut into equally wide strips, each one precisely consistent to the naked eye, as if cut by a machine.
Dabao's eyes slowly lit up: "Dad, the dishes you made today are so neat! The tomatoes are all the same size! The beef is all the same width!"
