The Parts I Must Remember

I'm standing at the stove whipping up lunch. An odd smorgasbord of lunch since I haven't been to the grocery store in far too long. Even though none of it really goes together, it still looks yummy, and I call to Lucas to come sit at the table to eat. He comes around the corner with a serious face on.

"I'd love to stay for lunch but I can't."

I'm wondering where on earth he might be going at 5 years old that I don't know about.

"I'm delivering pizzas for Pizza Putt today and my boss wants me back at one o'clock. What time is it now?"

Luckily for him he had a solid 20 minutes left on his "lunch break" before his boss wanted him back so he settled in his favorite chair and waited to be waited on.

"I have to remember to ask him for March 1st off", he continued, "'cause you know I don't like to work on my birthday. And I have to eat quick 'cause he doesn't like it when I'm late."

[It has always been a house rule for me (and now for him apparently) that I do not, under any circumstances, have to go to work on my birthday. I'm glad he's carrying on this particular tradition of mine, since I feel pretty strongly about it. I can guarantee he hasn't had to work a birthday yet.]

He gobbled up his lunch and told me thanks, but he had to go, and headed for the living room. I found him there few a minutes later playing video games. So apparently "delivering pizzas" means "playing xBox" when you're five. Good to know.