X: “Thou shalt not covet thy sibling’s outing, nor the restaurant meal she will eat.”
On Friday night, we had our Sabbath dinner. Oldest Daughter is home from college until next week, which makes the table feel complete. As part of the Sabbath celebration, we light the candles, say the blessing over the bread and the juice. The kids have juice and my husband and I have a glass of wine.
Near the end of our dinner, the conversation went something like this:
Me, to Youngest Daughter: There are some leftover spinach enchiladas, so you can have one for breakfast tomorrow.
Youngest Daughter: Actually, tomorrow I’m just going to wake up in time for lunch!
Me: Oh, yeah, that’s right. Tomorrow afternoon Youngest Daughter and I are going out for lunch and a movie about a horse.
Oldest Daughter: Why are you going to that movie?
Me: It’s by Stephen Spielberg.
Youngest Daughter: We’re related to him! (We are, distantly. At least 5 degrees of separation. Mr. Spielberg has never heard of us.)
Husband: Where are you going for lunch?
Me: Probably “Casual Italian Chain Restaurant.”
Son: Can I go?
Me: No, it’s a Mother-Daughter event.
Son: What?! How come whenever I go out to a restaurant with you, you force me to go to a Chinese restaurant, but when you’re going to an Italian restaurant I can’t go?!
(We went to a Chinese restaurant on Dec 21st. Yes, during Hanukkah. Son ordered a mammoth portion of Honey Chicken, which he devoured completely. He did not appear to be suffering as he consumed his meal.)
Husband: Yes, Son, it’s a terrible injustice in your life. You have no idea what kind of injustice I experienced as a boy.
Son: Dad. We all know that you had to walk 3 miles to school, with snow up to here, even though you were only this tall...
Husband: First of all, we hardly ever went out to a restaurant. When we did go to a restaurant I had to go with my Dad and my grandmother. She always ate off of my plate, instead of ordering her own meal. And if I ordered something and didn’t finish it, I got yelled at.
(At our house this line of discussion usually deteriorates into the Monty Python skit “You were lucky!” but not this time. There was too much coveting of YD’s outing going on.)
Oldest Daughter: Can I go to lunch with you at the Casual Italian Chain Restaurant?
Me: No. It’s a Mother-Daughter event with some of YD’s friends.
Oldest Daughter: But I want to go to an Italian restaurant.
Son: So do I.
Me: You can arrange a Father-Son event, and a Father-Oldest Daughter event, and get Dad to take you to Casual Italian Chain Restaurant.
(It was about now that Oldest Daughter, aged 18, grabbed the bottle of wine, poured it into her plastic cup, and drank it down. I had little time to realize what she was doing before she had swallowed.)
Me: What are you doing?!
Oldest Daughter: I was thirsty, and I didn’t feel like getting up to get some water, and there wasn’t anything else to drink on the table.
So our attention turned to other things, such as what the legal age for drinking is.
It turns out that we didn’t see Spielberg’s movie about the horse. Instead we saw “We Bought A Zoo” in which, for me, the major feature is that Scarlett Johansson gets to kiss Matt Damon. But since this is a post about not coveting, I will have to stop here.