I took my mom out to eat on Mother's Day. We went to one of my favorite Mexican restaurants. The food there is great, but even better than the eats is the manager. He's a Hot Tamale, no doubt. I call him my Sexi Mexi.
When he welcomes us to the restaurant, I always imagine his sultry dark eyes are giving me the bedroom gaze. Then, my mind wanders off into some kind of cheesy soap-opera sex scene...me and my Sexi Mexi making love...in a pile of soft flour tortillas...
Anyway, we were seated and it must have been my lucky day, because Sexi Mexi himself came to take our order. He asked me what I wanted. Raising one eyebrow, I answered, "I'll take your giant stuffed burrito."
While we waited for our food, a less-sexi-Mexi brought us chips and salsa. The salsa was in jars and we were each given a small bowl in which to pour it. Chloe grabbed the jar of salsa first and demanded, "I want to pour it mythelf, momma!"
"Well, it's pretty big. I think momma better do it," I said.
"Thop treating me like a baby!"
"OK. Be careful."
Chloe tipped the jar too far and BLOP--out dumped most of the salsa onto the table.
I sighed, "I'll ask for more napkins."
"Well," said Chloe defiantly, "It'th your fault for trusting a firtht grader!"
The spill was cleaned. Lunch eaten. Bill payed. Then, joy of joys, my Sexi Mexi brought me a rose and said it was the most beautiful one for the most beautiful mother. I swooned slightly. I just know he meant it! I know he did. Even though he told every other mother who patronized his restaurant that day the same thing, I know he only REALLY meant it when he crooned it to me. And I know he was thinking the same thing I was: he gave me my rose with one hand, and in the other, he was carrying a plate full of hot, soft flour tortillas. Mmmm...