My friend Renee went to Israel with her husband, to visit their son.
I asked for pictures of shewarma.
She said, “Is it a sandwich without the bread? I know I promised you some sandwich photos but it is Passover.
And I said, “Yes. It is a promise sandwich.”
Dov is the very same boy who once complained that his bag lunch did not “have an entrée” when his mother failed to include a sandwich. I hear you, Dov! Speaking from this perspective – the mothering POV – a lunch of all sides does not look bad. I do that myself, pack the boy a plethora of snacks and sides, hoping he won’t notice that the lunch plate has no center.
And, is bread mandatory? When you are eighteen, or eight, or any age around which the universe revolves, black is black and white is white. A sandwich has bread. Period. I hear you. But I don’t alway comply. Sometimes I slip in a bit of the grey area, a lunch with no entree or, getting really crazy, ask him to make his own lunch. Bit by bit, step by step, bite by bite, shepherding those boys along the road to adulthood, where black is rarely black and white is rarely white, but a promise is always a promise.