Looks Are Deceiving

   Independence comes in many forms.  For my son, it came at the age of ten.  This was a magical age.  The first foray into double digits – Yes!- but, more importantly, it was the age at which he was legally allowed to fill his own plate at the breakfast bar of Shoney’s. 

   Shoney’s was always the choice for us when it came to breakfast out.  There was no wonder, when you walked into the door and your senses were assaulted by aromas of cooking and baking, as well as, the delightful sight of fruit and floral arrangements decorating the buffet tables.  The tastes of the many items offered, insured an all-around satisfactory dining experience. 

   This day found the boys and me enjoying a leisurely breakfast.  We were “vacationing” while my husband worked.  Needless to say, we always got our money’s worth at All-You-Can-Eat buffets. As parents of boys, it was a wise financial move.  Not certain if they ever actually got full, we usually just told them, at some point, they had to stop eating. 

   Finishing up his fourth plate of food, he asked if he could go back for more.  I told him to make this trip count because it would be his last for this meal.  He squared his shoulders, stuck his chin out ever so slightly, and headed back to the buffet.  An act so simple and yet I could hear another apron string snap reminding me, again, how quickly he was growing. 

   Independent though he was, I still watched him as he perused the buffet, making his way slowly up one side and down the other.  When comfortable that he was maintaining a sanitary method of plating his food, I turned my attention back to the other two and became engrossed in the conversation at hand.  As the discourse continued, I looked back toward the buffet and saw him stopped before one of the displays.  Once again, I rejoined the discussion as I finished up my own meal.  When he walked back to our table, I chuckled to myself at the care he had taken in selecting his last item.  Surprisingly, the plate that he returned with carried one, lone banana.

   Joining the ongoing conversation, I watched as he attempted to peel the banana.  After a couple of tries to pull the stem down, I reached across the table and offered to peel it for him, still taking every opportunity to be the “Mama.”  As he placed it in my hand, he said, “You’d think it was  rubber.”  I carefully took it, so as not to bruise it, and picked up my knife to cut it.  It wasn’t until I had the knife on the stem that I realized and exclaimed, “IT IS RUBBER!!”  Without missing a beat he answered, “Well, no wonder it was so hard to pull it off that table.” I smiled to myself as I thought that maybe that apron string had only frayed.

   …I wonder if somewhere there is security camera footage of a little boy struggling to pull an artificial banana from a fruit arrangement, followed by unknown woman, glancing suspiciously over her shoulder, as she struggles to cram an artificial banana back into the same arrangement…