CHRISTMAS MORE OR LESS

My daughter from Texas has been in town for a week now, flying home this afternoon. She made it a point to spend those days with family. The spin-off good luck that touched me was that not only did I spend time with her, I got to see more of my boys and their families than usual. Late yesterday I was informed that we were going out to eat, to a Japanese Hibachi Restaurant where you sit around the grill as the chef juggles spatulas in a routine that entertains as well as it prepares the meal. At one point (I knew it was coming) with shrimp on the grill he chops one in half, scoops a piece up on the end of his spatula, looks at my daughter with raised eyebrows, gets the nod and flips the morsel in an arc that comes down in the vicinity of her face. With mouth wide open, like fly fishing with a wooly-worm she swallowed the hook. Everybody got their turn but most of the airborne shrimp missed their mark, bounced off faces and ended up on the table or in laps. 

He had only two shrimps left, four pieces, searching around the grill for the right person to finish with. With his tall, chef hat and spatula tapping the edge of the grill like the drummer in a band, he singled out our smallest, youngest member. She had missed both morsels when it was her turn and eager to try again. She got her mouth on the first one but it got away. The second slid off her forehead but number #3 went right in the pie-hole. There was only a short second to register delight and listen to cheers as the last shrimp arched through the air. Fueled by adrenaline and confidence from her recent success, my 10 year-old granddaughter had to stand up, stretch like a giraffe and strike like a snake to make it two in a row, and she did. We cheered so loud and so long, everyone in the restaurant stopped what they were doing and joined in their approval. 

She was caught off guard, not knowing whether to take a bow or hide under the table. She figured it out, took the bow. I realized I was standing, clapping hands and didn’t remember getting up. “Out of the mouths of babes” begins a familiar, biblical passage about young innocents and their wonderful contributions; but I felt totally proper reframing the idea. “Into the mouth of a babe.“ Who better to get me on my feet, clapping and cheering? I don’t know how I will weather another year or how I’ll receive Christmas next time but this one has been a hoot.