Being that was Mother’s Day, I decided to take my mother out for dinner. Actually my girl friend decided for me, I figured I better follow her suggestion if I wanted her to continue being my girlfriend.
I called my mother, who sounded generally surprised to hear from me, especially when I didn’t need money, and invited her out to dine.
“What’s the occasion?” mom asked.
“Well Cindy said, er, I mean Mother’s Day of course. Commemoration of the day you calved me.”
“That makes me either a cow or a glacier, I am not sure which I would prefer to be known as, so where were you planning to take me, and did you make reservations?”
“Reservations?”
“You know, calling ahead to reserve space at a restaurant during their busiest holiday of the year.”
“Oh, those, yeah, well I know the proprietor personally, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Son, I am not so certain I want to eat at a place where you personally know anybody. Do they serve anything besides beer?”
Apparently my mother knew me well. “Now mom, I am taking you to a place where you will dine among royalty.”
“OK, as long as you read the menu to me in French, and I don’t have to wear any of those stupid cardboard crowns. So when are you coming to pick me up?”
Like I said, apparently she knew me too well these days. “Be there in twenty minutes.”
Half an hour later I pulled up at her house. She was standing in the driveway waiting for me.
“I just remembered, did you ever get your brakes fixed on that thing?”
“Well I pulled out some floorboards…”
“So you stop it with your feet like Fred Flintstone or something?”
“No, I find I can nudge the break linkage with my foot and it activates the brakes.”
“Park the thing in the street, we’re taking my car.”
I was happy to oblige since I was getting low on gas anyway, and today was likely to take up the rest of my spare change. I got in the car and we started to drive off.
“So how are you affording this little shindig?” mom asked.
“2-for-1 coupon,” I responded.
“My son the tycoon,” mom said, “So are we dining with the clown or the king, or are we going to a place with real silverware?”
“We are dining at Les Maison de la Roi, and they have silverware if you count the plastic coffee stirers” I replied.
“Burger King it is. I hope the pomme de terre are fresh,” mom said as she pulled into the parking lot.
We entered the restaurant and mom had a seat.
“Bon sois Madame, I am your server tonight, may I suggest the fish?”
“I don’t know, do you have any sushi?”
“No, but I can have the cook not thaw the Fillet O’ Fish for you.”
“If the price of the meal is inclusive of a stomach pump at the local hospital that might work.”
“Perhaps the prime rib then?”
“How about something green? Wait, wait, never mind, just get me a #2, maintenez les oignons.”
“What?”
“It’s French for ”˜hold the onions’. Your 101 class isn’t going so well I take it?”
“Er, we’ll talk about that later.”
“Just as well, my head is starting to ache and I haven’t even eaten yet.”
I went up to place our order and get the food. I devoured mine while mom picked at hers.
“You know, this has been an experience,” mom said as we finished, “no matter whose idea it was, thanks for inviting me out, I really enjoyed it.”
“Yes, we should do this again sometime,” I replied.
“Let’s not overdo it though. Once every 22 years is plenty,” mom concluded.