Bratz

The weekend was packed with action, the viewing of last long weekend’s video footage and still life pictures, roller coasters sans funnel cake, booty shaking, hostessing, studying and of course a smidgen of penalty kick Tele gazing.
It is the toothpicks with olives on them aspiring to hold together a gibna beida bel tamatem whole wheat sandwich that are my muses this morning. I developed a mini obsession with the need to get the hummus sprinkled with sama2 in the perfect spiral formation. It looked like a million bucks and as I served it I smirked to myself with jubilant glee. Visuals of cooking competitions and chefs serving French cuisine consumed my reality. I floated on air. I was after all, or so I frivolously thought at the time, one of the very few elite epicures that truly understood the art of hospitality. The perfect sprinkle of basil here and the right amount of illustrious chocolate drizzle there can by all means “help the medicine go down”. Perhaps doing the whole what would u like to drink or eat thing wouldn’t be as bad as I’d anticipated. But oh boy was I naïve. Unfortunately what goes up must come down. My buzz from the pretty hummus platter and the salad garnished with radish flowers was inevitably FUBAR when an 8 year old guest looked at me all “I am the man-ish” and waived his finger in the air to indicate 2 scoops of sugar in his tea. I sooo wanted to slap the little bugger upside the head but of course my conscience quickly stepped in to fend for the mini me version of his father.
‘It’s not his fault… just cuz he hasn’t hit the double digits yet doesn’t mean he doesn’t have the right to drink his tea the way he wants it….and plus I’m serving the tea anyways maybe I’m just on edge from all the waiting on people..’ At which point the evil me surfaces with the thought… “WTF!?!? Not only are you putting up with this kind of behavior but you’re defending it as well?! this little piece of toilet decoration hasn’t even mastered the art of riding a bike yet has the audacity to tell you to make him tea?! Who drinks tea at his age anyways? Doesn’t it like stunt his growth? Shouldn’t his oh so typically arab father be worried about his son’s sperm count or something?! What of the family legacy ? ”
Course me being me… I offered him a cup of juice instead telling him the tea is too hot anyways when his mother interfered and said no its ok just do as he says add some milk to it and he should be fine. So there you have it… Is it any surprise the little pike is a looser and a half?! I promptly inserted my foot in my mouth cursed under my breath and like the good little girl that I am restrained ohhh so hard from spilling it on her lap on my way to him.