Taco Tuesday

Rosa rethinking her life after today’s story

“It’s not Tuesday!” Rosa announced as she walked into the kitchen where Julia was busy preparing dinner.

“I know that, Rosa. I can read.”

“Then why are we having tacos?”

Julia laughed. “Just because it’s Thursday doesn’t mean we can’t have tacos.”

“Yes, it does. We are only allowed to have tacos on Tuesday. That’s why when they invented the calendar they made it Taco Tuesday. You’re not allowed to have tacos on any other day.” “Ha, you’re wrong,” replied Julia, busily cutting up tomatoes and onions for the salsa. “But that doesn’t mean you have to have some of it. You can just have the meat without the taco.”

“What’s the meat?”

“Chicken,” replied Julia knowing that would upset her sister, and it did.

“Mummy!” shouted Rosa and then realising who she had called, changed her call to “Daddy!”

“Daddy’s not here,” replied Sybil very pleased that her youngest daughter had actually called for her first. “How can I help you little one?”

Sybil walked into the kitchen but was quickly shown the door by Julia, who was afraid that her mother would create havoc. Sybil grabbed Rosa’s wing and dragged her out into the dining room. “What’s the matter, Rosa?”

“Julia is making tacos and not only tacos, but chicken tacos.”

“Yummy, and what’s wrong with that?”

“Well, today isn’t Tuesday mummy. You’re not allowed to have tacos on any day other than Tuesday, that’s why they call it Taco Tuesday.”

“And Wednesday is whacky Wednesday,” was Sybil’s reply which made absolutely no sense. Rosa knew that.

“When’s daddy coming home?”

“In about an hour or so. Why can’t you talk to me, Rosa?”

“Because you give silly answers like that. I know today isn’t Wednesday. I learnt that in school. I know today is Thursday and I know it’s not Tuesday.”

Sybil had to steadily herself on a nearby chair as she tried to unravel Rosa’s nonsensical sentence. “I’m sorry, I don’t get what you’re driving at little one.”

Rosa hated her mother calling her that. She always felt it was meant as an insult as opposed to just her age. “Well mummy, as I said before you can only have tacos on Tuesday.”

“Oh I see,” laughed Sybil, “that’s just not true. What do you think Mexican restaurants do on the other days of the week when people come there to order food. Just say sorry it’s not Tuesday, you can’t order tacos.”

“Mummy,” Rosa rolled her eyes, “there’s a difference between going to a Mexican restaurant and having Mexican food and having tacos at home.”

“What’s the difference?” Sybil really was getting not only fed up with the conversation but was also very lost in it. “I don’t get it. So, we can have tacos here on Tuesday and go to a Mexican restaurant on the other days if we want tacos.”

“There’s more to Mexican food than just tacos, mummy. There’s encha whatever.”

“They’re just like tacos, Rosa dear. Meat and cheese, cheese and meat, it doesn’t matter what it’s wrapped in, it’s still Mexican food, and you can call them enchiladas or tacos, but it’s the same thing.”

Rosa was getting a headache, while Sybil already had one. Rosa walked back into the kitchen where she knew she was safe from her mother. “Can I just have salsa for dinner?” asked Rosa.

“Sure, if mummy or daddy allows it.”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Because you need meat.”

“No I don’t!” replied Rosa curtly. “Vegetarians don’t eat meat. My bestest friend Jyoti and her family don’t eat meat. In fact, they don’t eat tacos at all.”

“But when we were there, they had bread didn’t they? I think they called them chapatis.”

“Yes, but that’s not a taco.”

“Oh I see. So, if I tell you we are having chapatis on Thursday, then you’ll eat them.”

Rosa was confused and decided it was time for her to go and check on Melody who for her part was too busy napping under the nest to be concerned with what was a taco or not. If she was given it for lunch, she would gladly eat it. A vegetarian she is not.

“Melody,” said Rosa rather sadly as she walked out of the nest on to the sand. “Melody, my family is crazy. They don’t the know the difference between chapatis and tacos.” Well neither did Melody and neither did she care, as long as it was edible. “What are you doing?” “Well, I was sleeping until you woke me up,” replied Melody not angry with Rosa but certainty concerned that she had come to her with a problem the answer to which she did not know or care.

“Do you like tacos?” asked Rosa.

“I’ve no idea. I’ve never had them.”

“Well, they are chicken and vegetables rolled up in a taco.”

“I see,” replied Melody none the wiser. “What’s a taco?”

“It’s a thing rolled up.”

“In which case I’ll probably eat it. Anything that has a bird in it.”

Rosa froze and Melody apologised profusely. “No, I didn’t mean that. What I meant by a bird is a chicken.”

Rosa didn’t eat chicken because she felt it was murder. Rosa wasn’t sure what to do and so she waved a wing at Melody, told her to go back to sleep and went upstairs to collapse on her father’s lounge chair on the deck. Soon she was asleep.

She felt someone shake her. It was her grandfather. She jumped up immediately, “Grandpa! Why are you here,” she jumped for joy.

“Oh, we came down for a few hours to bring you food from New Jersey.”

“Pretzels?” she asked excited to see her grandfather, “where’s grandma?”

“Inside,” he replied. “No, not pretzels. We brought you some authentic tacos from Union City.

Rosa groaned. “Why tacos? Why couldn’t you bring me some pretzels from Atlantic City?” And with that she collapsed again on the lounge chair.

She heard her name called, “Wake up Rosa, you’re talking in your sleep.” She jumped up and saw her father standing over here. “You were saying something about grandpa being here bringing some tacos from New Jersey.”

“Oh thank goodness it was just a dream,” she replied, “I thought it was real. I thought grandpa brought some tacos for us.”

“Why would he do that? Julia is making tacos for dinner right now. You should try them, they’re excellent.”

“Did I miss dinner?” she asked.

“Oh no. I just had a bite in the kitchen.”

“But dad, it’s not Tuesday,” she replied.

“That’s ok,” he replied, “that was a made up day.”

Rosa was confused. “What do you mean by made up?”

“Oh, some person thought it was cute to say taco Tuesday, like whacky Wednesday and marvellous Thursday and freaky Friday and……”

“Please stop daddy, I’ve had enough. Can I just have salsa for dinner?”

“Sure,” he replied, “that means there will be more for me.”

Rosa thought for a second. “Can I have salsa with the tacos but no meat?”

“Yes of course young lady, let’s go.” Oh how she loved her father, and especially being called his young lady, instead of little one.