Dinner and a Show

I've enjoyed a copious amount of wonderful food in my life. I have had the pleasure to partake numerous epicurious delights and gastronomic wonders. I have even managed to construct a few of my own tasty meals. But last summer I sampled one that stands out above all others.

As I recall, it was a warm July evening in our little suburban nirvana. My youngest son, K2 is watching me assemble the ingredients for potato salad. "What else is for dinner Mom?" "Baked beans, watermelon, brauts," is my answer. "Brauts on the grill?," he asks, as I notice the little spark light in my young piro's eyes. "Yes, on the grill", I answer chopping onions as I do, knowing full well what he will ask next. "Can I help?." "Of course". "Can I cook them myself ?", he then ventured to ask." "Hmmm", I vacillate on this one. "Please Mom, Please? I'll do it real good! I know how! Dad and I have done it a million times." "Ok, K2", I concede, "But I help you light the charcoal-deal?""Woot!" yells my happy little camper as he disappears out the side door to our lawn.

I find the matches and together we start the flames burning. After a few minutes I bring out the platter of meat and set it on the pick nick table and roughly calculate the amount of weenies that will be fed to our Chesapeake Bay retriever and the loss of the ones that will be covered in ash. It's ok, I figure, we can fill up on salad if need be, this is important to my son. As I hand him our extra long handled tongs, I remind him, once again, "Stand back and don't get too close to the flames. Most people get burned when their clothes catch fire." "I know Mom", he answers looking at me as if I were the child here. "Just go back in the house, I'm doing it. I got it under control. This is man's work here," he demises me. I chuckle at how much he sounded like his father as I turned back to the house so he could prove to me he was capable of this responsibility.

I am setting the table and slicing watermelon next to my open kitchen window. I can hear my son singing softly but cannot see him. After what I determine to be long enough to cook our food, I find an excuse to go outside to check on my young chef. I open my door quietly and go around the corner to see K2, singing and dancing, standing way back from the grill, holding the long tongs in his extended hands. He completely bare butt naked.

He was not going to set his clothes on fire.

Best meal ever.