My six year old has come over to the dark side with me.
At least that’s the opinion of my husband.
To really understand this scenario you have to go back with me thirty years.
The place I remember going out to eat more than any other growing up is Pancho’s.
Glorious Pancho’s.
Enchiladas made with cheese from a can.
Tamale sauce with a one inch top layer of fat.
Sopapillas still dripping in oil.
And the pinatas at your birthday…….
…..don’t even get me started over that thrill.
When our family gets together at the holidays, there has to be at least one trip to Pancho’s.
Well, my husband doesn’t get it.
Neither does my brother-in-law who is married to my sister.
They’re what we like to consider, “Pancho outsiders.”
They weren’t as fortunate as us to grow up with this delicacy so they don’t understand.
When our family goes to Pancho’s for the holidays, my husband always chooses to work that day. Whatever. More chiquitos for us.
So yesterday, my son and I were discussing places to eat for my birthday.
“No way,” was my response when Steak n’ Shake was suggested.
“No can do,” when Pizza Hut was offered.
But then he said, “What about Pancho’s?”
“Now there’s an idea son. I like it.”
And then he said the words I will never forget.
“When I grow up I want to work at Pancho’s so I can eat their food everyday.”
There just couldn’t be a prouder moment for this mom.
My family was equally proud when I told them.
Imagine, mother and son eating lunch together everyday enjoying tacos and refried beans.
Just the two of us making wonderful memories.
After all, my husband will be stuck eating leftovers at the house because he never came over to the dark side.
