I cannot imagine life without cream cheese!

Rosa Blau loves to fly!

“What’s that doing on the table?” asked Sybil, her voice climbing as she pointed to a round glass container.

“What’s what doing on the table?” replied George pretending not to notice the small glass container in the centre of the table.

“That!” Sybil emphasised pointing even more determinedly with her wing.

“Oh, that,” replied George hoping he could come up with an answer which would placate his wife. However, after scanning all his brain cells and finding he couldn’t, he defaulted to the truth. “Ha,” he began, “you have to ask Rosa, she put it there.”

“Why would Rosa put that there?” she asked this time hoping George would finally tire of going around in circles and illuminate her.

“It’s cream cheese,” he replied looking quickly around the room for his youngest daughter, but she wasn’t there.

“Yes, I know it’s cream cheese, George. I’m asking why it’s on the dining room table amongst all these dishes.” Sybil majestically waved her wings which was meant to convince George she knew what she was taking about.

“I have no idea,” George replied, “ask Rosa.” Enough said.

The guests hadn’t entered the dining area yet and Sybil in her best imitation of an angry mother, shouted for her daughter. A few seconds later Rosa flew in with a grin on her face. “Yes, mummy how can I help you?”

“Why is there cream cheese on the table?”

“Where else should it be Mummy?” asked Rosa not quite sure she understood her mother’s question.

“Not on the table and back in the fridge, period!” Sybil looked at the clock on the wall realising that the some of the guests who were there, were outside on the beach watching the sun set over the houses on North Topsail Beach. Sybil lifted the glass container and stretched out her wing to Rosa. George in the meantime stood by and watched without saying a word.

“Sybil darling,” George finally said. “Would it hurt anything by remaining on the table?”

Rosa beamed and waited for her mother’s reply. “Yes, it would. We don’t have any bagels.”

“Yes we do!” Rosa jumped in quickly, “Timmy is bringing them.”

“And where is he getting bagels from?” asked Sybil not believing a word her youngest daughter said.

“From over there,” she replied pointing out of the window at the line of homes.

“Where’s there?” Sybil was nearly at the end of her rope.

“From that blue house over there. Timmy’s friendly with the man who lives there, and he makes the best bagels. Timmy asked him to make some, so he is.”

“And who is this man?”

“I don’t know, ask Timmy when he comes back.”

“I don’t believe a word you’re saying,” replied Sybil, “so either you take this back to the kitchen, or I will.”

Rosa sadly picked up the dish and walked into the kitchen. “That’s just not fair,” she said as her parents could hear her open the fridge door and then slam it shut, which made both of them jump.

A few seconds later she made her reappearance in the dining room. “Have you met Pawo’s family yet?” she asked. Her parents shook their heads and Rosa was pleased that at least she was ahead of them in that respect.

“Why have you?” asked Sybil cautiously, because she was well aware of her daughter’s ability to imagine things.

“Yes!” Rosa declared proudly. “I’ve met his wife and his children. They came in late, but they promised they would be here for the dinner party.”

“Where did you meet them?” asked Sybil yet again not sure whether to believe her daughter. “Outside. Timmy met them as well when he was walking over to the blue house to pick up the bagels.” Until the mention of Timmy’s name yet again, both parents, George a little less than his wife, felt that Rosa was making things up. But with the mention of their one and only son, it gave credence to what Rosa was saying.

“I see,” replied Sybil, her mind working overtime in search of the correct response which would lead her to completely believe her daughter on all counts or dismiss what she had been saying. She finally found it. In the meantime, Rosa stood there looking out of the window at the Falashas who had just arrived in a little convoy together with Chaim Slotnick and Rabbi Krupnick and yes, there were Timmy’s two loves, Tali Slotnik and Melanie Krupnick, who appeared to be talking to each other. In Rosa’s slightly devious mind, she realised that the evening should be a blast.

“What are their names?” asked Sybil which caused Rosa to jump slightly as she was too busy imagining the evening’s events unfolding.

“Well,” she began, “there’s Pawo and his wife’s name I think is Chosen, the girl is Dalia and the boy is Jetson.”

George and Sybil looked at each other and knew based on past experience, that Rosa had not indeed changed and the names were obviously made up. “Thank you, Rosa,” George replied though he still wanted to believe his youngest daughter.

“What are you going to do now?” asked Sybil, hoping Rosa would say something like take a nap, but instead she jumped up onto the windowsill.

“Here comes Timmy with all the bagels and Max is helping him, and yes here are the Falashas all 65 of them,” there were only 10, “and the Rabbi and his family and the deli guy and his family and oh dear, Timmy has seen both Tali and Melanie. I must go before he drops the bagels.”

Her parents stood there stunned and when they eventually came to, they flew over to the window and looked outside at the unfolding scene. Panic gripped both of them. However, Sybil being the quintessential Jewish mother panic was her middle name, which meant she was kicked into overdrive.

They both saw Timmy and Max carrying sacks bigger than themselves and they suddenly realised that maybe their daughter wasn’t imagining things. “At least there isn’t a unicorn anywhere here!” added George trying to lighten up the mood.

But Sybil glared at him and replied, “you’re silly sometimes. There isn’t anything like unicorns.” “Well,” replied George before he flew out of the window to help his son and Max carry the sacks which now lay on the beach, while Timmy was talking to two very pretty sandpipers, “You never know.”

Sybil shook her head and walked into the kitchen where she opened the fridge. She looked around to make sure there wasn’t anyone watching, and then she carefully picked up the cream cheese container and brought it back to the table. Unfortunately for her, Rosa had returned to the dining room carrying one bagel and noticed her mother put the cream cheese back in the centre of the table. She grinned from ear to ear and cleared her throat. Sybil, who had perfected over her lifetime the ability to ignore someone tried to do so, in order to retain some dignity. But unfortunately, she was dealing with her 7 year old daughter.

“So, I’m right Mummy, you agree with me. You too can’t imagine life without cream cheese!” Sybil would’ve loved to wipe the smile of her daughter’s face but refrained, “Can I have some now?”

Sybil needed to regain her position which had been badly damaged. She turned to face her daughter, put her wings on her hips and replied, “you’ll just have to wait for dinner,” and then added when she realised she had made her point, “just like everyone else!”