Jumping Jalepenos!

Sometimes I look at Zachery and his mother is just there, shining through in his personality, his expression and, most of all, in the mischievous glints lurking in the back of his eyes.

With the Missus out of town for a family emergency for a few days, Zack and I have found ourselves "baching" it about the house - a circumstance that generally ends up with Zack trying to get Dad to agree to a great many things that normally Dad would squelch unmercifully....but, more often than not, Dad folds out of a selfish desire to make life without Mom as easy as possible.

The result is a five-year old getting "salty" chips for his late-night snack instead of a fruit, a doubling of story-time and bedtime sliding steadily north past 9 in the evening...What can I say? - I'm a whuss.

Last Friday evening, driven by a desire to do something special with my little man, I cajoled Zack into going out for dinner after I picked him up from school. We headed over to one of our local restaurants and sat down to fajitas, chicken fingers and fries. This particular place served fajitas directly on a sizzling hot cast-iron skillet, with a separate container for the extra ingredients such as cheese, tomatoes, sour cream and other fixings.

Zachery was very impressed with the sizzling and crackling skillet and I situated it carefully to keep it out of the reach of curious five-year old hands, which have a tendency to wander, no matter how often you warn them.

Nominally the fajitas were my supper but, by special rules of the our house, Dad's plate is pretty much free pickings for hungry five-years olds. The only time this rule ever became a problem was at dinner at Zachery's grandmother's house where, when he picked a pork tenderloin off my plate when I wasn't looking but his grandmother was, giving him gave him a notable and memorable scolding about filching without permission. Now, whenever Grandma visits, Zack is careful to whisper for permission in my ear, before reaching out and helping himself.

I carefully pieced together a chicken fajita for Zachery, making a point to avoid the very hot jalepeno peppers stacked to one side.

"What are those Daddy?" asked Zack queriously, sounding somewhat muffled as he munched his fajita (or as we call them "fer-jeeters!") and pointing at the malevolently dark green jalepeno rings.

"Those are jalepeno peppers Zack. They're pretty hot, I don't think you want to eat them."

With a sound something like awe in his voice Zack replied "Are those the one's Scooby and Shaggy always eat?"

"Yep."

"And they shoot fire out of their mouths?"

"Yep."

"Eat one Daddy."

"No. Way."

"Why not?"

"Well, Zack, they're really, really spicy - you know spicy hot? Daddy would look pretty silly all red-faced and gulping down water, don't you think?"

"Oh puh-leeze..." Came the reply. Odd that, I didn't know it was possible for such a small voice to register such depths of disdain at such a young age..."They're just food. Eat one. Please?"

I suspect that, deep in his heart of hearts, Zachery secretly wanted to see if art truly imitates life and whether Daddy would send fire blazing across the room....Personally although I have a certain fondness for spicy food, regrettably my stomach seemed to lose its ability to handle them around the age of thirty. Getting goaded into eating a jalepeno pepper by a five-year old seemed to be a insanely silly thing to do...even for me.

Zack reached over and picked one up. I remembered one memorable evening when I accidently rubbed my eye with a bit of pepper residue on it - and watered madly from a flame-shot eye for the remainder of the evening. "Zack, you better wash your fingers - that stuff is really hot. Don't lick your fingers."

He shot me a look, and promptly, with a grin that can only be described as devilishly smug, began to lick his fingers. "Its not hot Daddy. See?" He picked up another pepper in his hand and began licking his fingers again, waving the pepper back and forth. With that he leaned on the table, cupped his chin in his hands and gazed at me with that closed mouth familiar half-smile that shot through me like a cannon.

This was his mother and her slightly off-kilter sense of humor was staring me in the face. I don't care what the experts say, personality must be inherited...This was her, 100% of the way.

"Look," Zack exclaimed, in his most dulcet and soothing tones, "It's not hot. I'll prove it." He grabbed another pepper, opened his mouth and began to lick the jalepeno.

"See? You're wrong Daddy! Daddy is wrong, Daddy is wrong..."

I didn't reply. I noticed that the first pepper he had licked directly had, by purest accident, a coating of sour cream on it. The second one he grabbed didn't.

"Daddy is wrong, Daddy is wron..." He abruptly sat back, mouth clomping shut audibly, expression frozen.

To his credit, he sat poker-faced for a several seconds, before abruptly grabbing his drink.

I savored the quiet, but didn't say anything else for several minutes.

"Are you okay Zack."

He nodded. I could see him still wiggling his tongue around inside his mouth. Half his drink vanished within a minute.

After a few minutes he said, in a wonderous, when-the-world-was-new tone "Those peppers are really hot Daddy."

I kept my face studious neutral.

After a few minutes Zack was back to normal....I caught him rubbing the jalepenos on the french fries and then putting them prominently on my plate....

God help when I'm older. Then I'll have him and his mother to worry about.

Comments are always welcome. You can reach me at dadchronicles(at)hotmail.com.