Frankie's Bedtime Story
Frankie Manoso, nearly four-years-old, bundled in his favorite jammies, sat on his bed waiting for his father, Ranger, to do their bedtime ritual.
First, the inspection. Had Frankie brushed his teeth? Had he brushed them properly? He passed inspection as he usually did.
Next, prayers, because Frankie had so many people that he wanted God to watch over, especially his godfather, Uncle Tank.
Finally, and best of all, a bedtime story . . . or two . . . or three . . .
"Big Guy, which story tonight?", asked Ranger as he perused the many slim volumes in his son's bookcase.
"Moussa Loves Hummus."
"Moussa Loves Hummus? Again?"
Frankie nodded enthusiastically. Ranger sighed imperceptibly as he pulled the book from the bookcase.
He sat on the bed by his son and put the book on his lap where they both could see it. Ranger underlined the title with his forefinger and they recited, "Moussa Loves Hummus".
Ranger began reading to his son.
This is Moussa. Say Hi! To Moussa.
Frankie waved at the book and said, "Hi!".
Ranger resumed his storytelling.
Moussa's a moose. He's a little moose.
He's the littlest moose in his family.
Ranger glanced at Frankie. Frankie was enthralled. Ranger continued to read.
These are Moussa's parents. He calls them Mommy and Daddy, but his friends call them Moussa's Mommy and Moussa's Daddy.
Moussa has a big sister, Mousseline. She's very pretty and very smart.
Moussa wants to be as smart as Mousseline when he gets bigger.
But for now, Moussa is a little moose, the littlest moose in his family.
Frankie stared at the illustrations and smiled.
Moussa is a happy little moose.
He likes to go to school and see his friends. They're all woodland critters like Moussa.
Frankie interrupted his father and said, "Moussa's best friend is Ella. She's a mouse."
"How do you know that?"
Frankie shook his head and rolled his big blue eyes. "Daddy, it's in the other book, you know, the story where Ella and Moussa eat lunch."
Ranger did remember the book, Moussa and Ella Eat Lunch. He continued reading.
Moussa likes to laugh and yap.
He likes to take naps.
Moussa likes to walk with Mousseline in the forest.
He likes to read books with Daddy. It's the best.
Frankie and Ranger looked at each other and smiled.
Moussa likes hugs and cuddles from his Mom. They make him feel warm and calm.
Frankie and Ranger looked at each other again and smiled.
One of the things that Moussa likes the best is hummus.
He likes hummus for breakfast schmeared on toast.
He likes hummus for lunch, the most.
He likes to dip veggies in hummus for a snack when his tummy rumbles like a beasty.
He likes to eat spoons of hummus whenever because it's tasty.
"Moussa knows how to make hummus. From itch.", said Frankie.
Ranger wondered, "from itch"? Then he realized that Frankie meant from scratch. "From scratch."
Frankie said, "Right. He made it from scratch with his mom in that other story." He said scratch slowly and deliberately.
One day, at snack time, Moussa, smiled and said, "Mommy, I don't like hummus, I love it!"
"I love it in the morning!"
"I love it at night!"
"I love it every day!"
"I love every bite!"
Moussa's Mommy said, "You're not my little moose."
Moussa frowned. He was a moose.
Moussa's Mommy gave him a kiss on the forehead, right between his little antlers, and said, "You're my little Hummoose."
Moussa smiled. He liked being Moussa, the Hummoose.
"Again."
"No, Big Guy, time for bed."
"Again."
"Frankie, time for bed."
"No. Again. Pul-lease. I love Moussa."
"Why?"
"Why?", asked Frankie. "'cause."
"'cause, why?", retorted his father.
Frankie sighed a very big sigh. "'cause, Moussa's the littlest moose in his family and I'm the littlest in our family."
"And," Frankie continued, "I have a big sister. Julie's pretty and she's smart. She's so smart she's gonna go to Hartford."
"Harvard."
Ranger thought, again with the Harvard stuff. It's been Harvard ad nauseam since his Abuela made him buy those damn t-shirts years ago. But then, Julie's smart. She's in advanced courses at school and is on the track team. Julie works part-time at Rangeman Miami and volunteers at the library. She has an excellent high school resume. High school resume! Which, as he understood it, is now essential to get into many colleges. Ranger mentally shook his head. Julie could go Ivy if she wanted. And yes, he said silently to his Abuela, he would pay for it all, undergrad, law school, business school, medical school, whatever Julie wanted. And then years later, he'd pay for whatever education Frankie wanted after high school.
"I love hummus."
"You do? When did you eat hummus?" Ranger was sure he caught Frankie telling a fib. Where would he get hummus?
"Tia Ella gived to me. It's yummy."
Ella, Ranger thought. That made sense. She often fed Frankie healthy food on the sly.
"I like hummus as much as Moussa, but I'm not a Hummoose."
"No?"
Frankie patiently explained to his father, "Nope, I'm not a moose, I'm a Manoso. I'm a-, a-, a hum-, hmm." He looked up at the ceiling and scrunched his little face.
Frankie pondered for a while, then he smiled and said, "I'm a Hum-oso!"
Ranger, ruffled his son's hair and kissed his pate. He re-opened the book and read, "This is Moussa. Say Hi! To Moussa . . ."