This weekend, POB (partner of blogger), SOPOBAB (son of POB and blogger) and I went to see dear friends who live outside the City. The wife, M., is in the travel business so she knows how to spoil people with sumptuous accommodations. The husband, C., is the sweetest man ever and, together they are generous with their hearts, their time and their money. These are the kind of people that should have G-d’s grace shine upon them forever and always (not that I am a religious person or anything).
They have taken an especial liking to SOPOBAB and SOPOBAB adores them — simply adores them.
M. made sure his bedroom for the weekend was filled with presents, like Christmas morning in the movies. Our room had a gigantic bed with matching pajamas in case we forgot ours, a gift basket and bottled water. The bathroom was the size of most Manhattan apartments. So, this was SIX star accommodations and, because we were visiting our dear friends, it was a TEN-STAR experience.
I forgot to tell our friends that SOPOBAB said after the weekend that he slept in “luxurious comfort” (he is 8 year old and where do 8 year-olds get this vocabulary).
We kept saying, “they must think you’re royalty — a REAL prince!!” He wondered after the weekend if he should tell them that he wasn’t really royalty, after all. But then, he figured, there might not be as many presents or endless games of hide-and-go-seek and tag. (G-d bless C. for running all over and watching cartoons.) So, SOPOBAB thought he would keep his commoner status quiet. Still, he felt a little sheepish about the ruse.
Yet, during the weekend, SOPOBAB got a little toooo into the groove of “ask and ye shall receive” when he asked that his burger be pan-fried, like in diners. C. was braving the frigid temperatures to grill a delicious carnivorous fare. (I was personally horrified, first, that my son would be so bold as to make that request and, second, that he would have a palate that desired pan-fried burgers, but I digress.) I was a little concerned that C. might accede to his wishes and then we would have to send our son to boot camp to bring him back down to real life.
But G-d not only gave them wonderful hearts and souls, but “seychel” (Yiddish for “smarts” and the “ch” is a guttural German-like sound). C. brought a pan outside and deposited the grilled hamburgers into it and then brought them into the dining room for our son. SOPOBAB pronounced them the most delicious burgers he had ever eaten. I had the biggest smile on my face.
A fabulous weekend getaway. Except that our son now asks, “what if I am a real prince, only kidnapped by you like in a fairy tale?” I think, “sweetie, most times, only us, your real mothers could love you,” but I keep that thought inside. I merely said, “we treat you like a prince, so does it matter?” “But, M. and C. treat me better!!”
I know he knows that that is all because they are not his parents and they can (and do) spoil him. But, oy. Boot camp here we come.
