A Tale of Two Tables Plus One
A Tale of Two Tables Plus One
I was sitting at a table by the window in a restaurant recently, enjoying my lunch as I people-watched, a fascinating pastime of mine, I must admit.
It had been relatively quiet perhaps because most of the lunch crowd was made up of adults who came in, ordered their meal, and became engrossed in Social Media until their food was served. Well, so was I until there came a lady and a child who sat diagonally across from me, to my left, and provided a real horror show for the next twenty-nine minutes.
It was a half hour display of tantrums and lack of respect by the child whom I guessed was about nine years old; he ordered one meal then changed his mind only to revert to his original choice. While waiting for their meal to be served, the child went to the bathroom twice, tapped the table with his silverware to the dismay of all the other patrons and told his mother, probably not for the first time, that he hated her. The mother tried, in vain, to gain control of a situation that was escalating into the third world war right there before my eyes.
Mercifully, they finished their meal without any major catastrophe beyond a water spill, a broken glass and unbecoming behavior, and left the restaurant to the relief of everyone who had watched the comedy of horrors.
A few minutes later I noticed a tall, beautiful lady in the company of a young boy who called her ‘Mommy’, aged about nine, take up the table diagonally across from me to my right. I was treated to the experience of a loving son out to lunch with his mother. I overheard the son ask his mother what she would suggest he order, and then settled for her choice.
After they placed their order they chatted amicably, laughing at each other’s jokes until their food was served. I was pleasantly surprised to see the young boy put the serviette on his lap, just like his mother did, use his fork and knife properly, eat without talking with food in his mouth and smile at the waiter when asked if they could take his plate away at the end of the meal. I was enchanted by the fact that he offered his mother a bite of his chicken and smiled at her while doing so.
I observed that the mother smiled a lot and presented a serene and warm demeanor; when they arrived I had seen her put her hand in the small of her son’s back and guided him towards his seat. When they were done eating and she had paid the bill she stood up, waited for her son to push his chair back towards the table and then with her arm around his shoulders, she smiled at their waiter and took leave of the restaurant.
After they left I pondered the tale of the two tables and wondered how there could be such a stark difference between them; between two nine year-old boys, between two mother-son relationships, and ultimately between two families. The question crossed my mind as to what it would be like to watch a mother and daughter duo out to lunch or dinner together.
Lo and behold, one October evening I did find out.
I was sitting quietly at my table in an upmarket café waiting for a friend to join me. In walked a beautiful young lady and her equally lovely daughter whom I guessed was about four years old. They were both dressed in grey sweatpants. The lady greeted the waitress graciously and her daughter echoed her mother’s greeting to the waitress. They were then led to a table close to mine and smiled at me as they passed by my table. She waited for her daughter to sit herself, only helping her when it was absolutely necessary. I thought to myself, “Here is a mother who is allowing her little one to be independent and therefore empowering her to build her self-esteem by indicating that she believed her daughter could do it.”
I sat back, and somehow I knew I was in for a treat. Sure enough, the conversation between the two of them started.
“What will you have to eat?” I missed the little one’s answer but I heard Mom suggest that she tell ‘uncle’ (meaning the waiter) when he came to take their order. The little one nodded and Mom must have nudged her, asking what she would say to the uncle and the quick answer, confidently spoken was ‘I have to say please and thank you’.
“What would you like to drink,” mommy asked.
Once again, a quick answer, “I will have a ginger ale!’ she replied sweetly.
“A ginger ale? I think that is a very good choice,” Mommy said in approval.
I smiled and thought to myself, my mind in awe and wanting to give the mommy a hug, “This little girl has already got the best foundation a child could have: Love!”
Mom was busy on her phone and it seemed her daughter respected that and only occasionally did she say something and Mom, to her credit, each time would put her phone down on the table and address her in a comfortable, conversational tone.
Their food finally came, the little one’s fries and chicken nuggets and Mommy’s platter of something exotic-looking from where I was sitting.
Our little missy took the tomato sauce and with deliberate care, poured some onto her plate then put it back onto the table gently. Little Missy then asked, “May I put some salt on my chips?”
“Hmm, I think your chips already have enough salt. Do you want to taste and make sure?” Mommy replied and I thought, she respects the little one enough to give her an explanation and a suggestion.
“Oh, there’s already salt on my fries? Okay!” and with that, no tantrums at all, little missy daintily picked up one long fried potato and ate it.
“Do you want to taste my food?” Mommy asked.
I did not hear the answer; maybe she was still enjoying her one long fry.
Mommy cajoled her saying, “You will love it, I promise!”
The soft approach worked and Little Missy took her mother’s offering, but I figured it was not to her taste because while she diplomatically ate it, she did not ask for any more nor express an opinion as to whether it was good or not. She simply carried on with her fries, chicken nuggets and tomato sauce.
There was a flow to their conversation which I ceased listening to once I realized, rather belatedly, that I was eavesdropping. Nonetheless, I could tell even from afar that it was a pleasant evening for both of them and that they were enjoying each other’s company.
Suddenly a young man walked up to their table. He turned the little one’s chair so she could slip out of it easily, then he stepped back a few steps to give her room to run into his arms. By then I was enthralled. Daddy and his little princess exchanged some small talk, and then with his daughter still in his arms, he kissed his wife. Little Missy and her dad went off giving mommy and I a few minutes to chat.
She told me they were out to dinner on a week night because there was no electricity at home. We commiserated over the ills of loadshedding and the challenges families have been subjected to. I asked her how old her daughter was and she said four years old which had been my guess all along.
When Daddy and his daughter came back, Mommy and I had already bonded. She therefore asked her daughter to say hi to me and tell me her name. This is how that conversation went:
“Hi, what’s your name?” she asked me, a little shyly.
“Hi, my name is Auntie Rose; what’s your name?”
“My name is Khanya. It’s nice to meet you” And yes, she added that last part without any prompting from mommy. I was floored; I wanted to give her a hug and take her home with me.
“Thank you. Nice to meet you too. That’s a lovely name. So, are you in preschool?”
“Yes.”
“Where do you go to school?” I asked.
“I am going to school tomorrow,” said with a smile and interest. I also smiled acknowledging that children sometimes answer the question they expect you to ask rather than the one you ask and that’s okay because it means they are already invested in the conversation.
“Oh, okay. And do you like school?”
“Yes, I like my school.”
She was then invited to go back to her dinner and with a smile she said to me once again, “It’s nice to meet you.” My heart was bursting with emotion.
The table mom and daughter had sat at wasn’t large enough for all three of them so it was unanimously decided that they would move to a bigger table. Asked if she was happy to move, Khanya said she was and therefore, as a family, they all moved to a table a little distance from where they had sat across from me.
I asked her mom for her number as I wanted to be able to send her my article on A Tale of Two Tables. She graciously gave me her number.
A few minutes later I bid them goodbye, wished them a lovely evening and left.
As I set out to send her the article which is a chapter in my book “While there is still ink in my pen”, I found myself penning this addition to the article above.
They had made my evening. I walked away with a warm fuzzy feeling that I had just experienced familial love that was unfettered and unlimited. Like a flower that is watered, nurtured and has the sun smiling upon it, Khanya will grow up to be an incredibly beautiful person because she is growing in love and joy.
And there’s my tale of three tables!
- Category:
- Family & Home
- 27 Mar, 2023
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