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第十一组(建议用时：25分钟)阅读理解A On Sundays my father always wore that dull gray apron(围裙)—the one with the race cars all over it. The tradition began after breakfast when Dad always announced: “Go ahead everyone.I’ll take care of the dishes！” With that my mother disppeared into the folds to the Sunday paper.Off came the suit coat he had worn to church that morning. Up went the shirtsleeves. On went apron.For the next hour Dad did the dishes, singing ballads like 揑 Had a Hat When I Came In?and 揥ho Put the Chow in Mrs. Murphy’ll’s Chowder？”od as we walked home from church together. “Tommy，” he said letting my name roll off his tongue. My mind raced ahead of his words：The birds and the bees? A new bike? A parttime job?on responsibilities.” “Responsibilities？” I asked. Boss my baby brothers? “Starting today, I want you to do the dishes on Sunday morning so your mother and I can work the crossword puzzle together.” “The dishes！”？” ears. I didn’t taste a bit of breakfast that morning. Dad seemed in a cheerful mood and was describing a wonderful baseball game he saw last night. Suddenly, everything grew quiet. My sister bagan to clear the table.My brother was finishing the last of the egg from his plate. And then that ancient family tradition that had filled | 
