This is the moment where things can get a little dicey for our family.
Should we press forward with our errands, making the young'uns wait another hour (at least) for lunch, but at the same time teaching them valuable lessons? Lessons such as: a person cannot starve to death between breakfast and lunch. What about the important principles of budgeting and spending wisely? By waiting and eating the perfectly good food that we had in our own kitchen wouldn't they learn to understand these things a little better?
The halo-clad angel perched firmly on my right shoulder presented these arguments quiet articulately. But she was quickly drowned out by the whining that echoed off the interior of our van, "Mom! We're soooo hungry! Pleeeeeease can we stop!?" The guy with the pitch fork lounging on my left shoulder didn't have to say a word. He just smiled smugly.
"Where do you guys want to eat?" I asked.
Within 2 minutes we'd weeded out 99.1% of the nearby eating establishments.
"McDonald's!" the kids chanted with enthusiasm.
"NO!" Kedar and I retorted, matching their gusto.
"Tacos?" someone suggested.
"BLURRRAH!!" one of the kids countered with elaborate fake vomiting noises.
"How 'bout Subway?"
"YUCK!"
"Sizzler?"
"Eeeeww!"
On and on this back and forth went until it was quite apparent that what we needed was a leader. Someone to take charge and make a choice. Someone who wasn't afraid to make some enemies, knowing that not everybody would be happy but still willing to make the best decision for the group. It is in high pressure situations like this that leaders emerge.
I noticed it happening gradually; Kedar slowly distanced himself from the circular banter, his driving evolved from aimless wandering to purposeful guiding, and his jaw set in resolution. He'd made a decision. The car grew quiet as we all waited to see where we would be eating our lunch. A sharp right turn off of Redwood Road found us in a parking lot, the sign read "The Red Maple."
Our food was delicious, I believe the words "the best Chinese food in the valley" were spoken during the course of the meal. When our chopsticks were clean and our bellies full the check arrived along with, of course, the fortune cookies. The kids looked at them with expectation on their faces.
Conner insisted the "authentic" way to acquire the fortune cookie meant for you was to pick one and then trade with someone else. So, trade we did. One by one we held our delicate treats in our hands and snapped them into two pieces. The magic of anticipating what the hidden message may say found us all and buzzed in the air like static electricity. We took turns reading our slips of paper. The kids wondered out loud how their fortunes would play out in reality.
"Mom, will I really bring sunshine into someones life?"
"Do I bring sunshine into your life Dad?"
"What does "priority" mean?"
"Why should my family be my highest priority?"
I was enchanted as I listened to our children. Conner's paper said he would "bring sunshine into some body's life"so he believed that he would. For the value that they put on them, these words should have been engraved on gold instead of printed on paper. For three little minds that have no qualms believing in Santa Clause, Tooth Fairies and Leprechauns, putting faith in something as tangible as a fortune cookie wasn't a stretch at all. Because they believed, I wanted to.
When my turn came to read, the words hummed in my head. The realization hit me: there's no reason not to believe in these positive expressions. Believing words of encouragement, no matter where they come from can only have a positive outcome. So, I made the choice to believe.
Motivation can come from many places, last Saturday it came to me in a crunchy Chinese cookie.
3 comments:
You have a way with words, Kari.
Awesome! Loved it!
It sounds like the same conversations that we have in our car when we are going out to eat. Too many opinions, that's for sure! :) Cute post!
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