Old Soul

A family of three sits at their kitchen table, having dinner together.

Midway through, the mother says, “Let’s do a toast.”

Their three-year-old son looks confused and says, “What’s that?”

The mother explains, “Well, you say something about the people you’re with, or something you’d like to celebrate, or maybe something you would like to remember, and then you raise your glasses and say, “Cheers!”

“So, now. A toast to all of us.” The father clears his throat, lifts his glass and says, “Here’s to memories now and in past tense.” The wife smirks at her husband, befuddled.

All three hold up their glasses. The mother, a glass of wine, the father, a glass of water, the son, a cup of milk. “Cheers!”

Then they proceed to clink glasses. The three-year-old wasn’t explained this part, and is further confused, but joins in and giggles. He likes the sounds of the clinking. He raises his cup again and says, “Cheers. Cheers,” more clinking and chiming.

“Okay! Mommy’s turn,” the son says, on the edge of his seat.

The mother, perhaps not as clear-headed, lifts her glass and says, “To more dinners like this one, now and in the future.” The husband lifts his eyebrows and gestures a yawn.

They raise their glasses once again, and bring them together in the center clink, and “Cheers,” another sip. Clink. “Cheers,” another drink. Jubilantly, more clinking, more sipping, some spilling.

“It’s your turn now, honey, ” the mother encourages her son.

The son, lifts his cup with scant milk, says, “To my former life as Nico the bobsledder and to my friend Soleil.”

The mother and father stare across the table at one another, wide-eyed.

The boy, “Cheers. C’mon. Raise your glass!”

Clink. Clink. Clink.

Photo Credit: Wikipedia: An East German bobsleigh in 1951, Oberhof track, Germany.

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