A-TISKET-A-TASKET

I had just pulled the pan of chicken parmesan out of the oven and had placed it on top of the stove when my son Alex came into the kitchen.

“About how long until dinner?” he asked.

“I’m going to say about fifteen minutes.”

Alex looked around the kitchen. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Actually there is.” I reached over and grabbed the basket that was sitting on the counter-top and held it out to him. “Can you get some tomatoes and basil from the garden? I want to make a Caprese salad to go with the chicken parm.”

Alex took a step back. “I’ll go get the tomatoes and basil but I’m not using your basket.” He went over to the cabinet and took out a bowl.

“What?” I was confused as I stood there with the basket still in my hand. “But I bought this basket specifically for the garden.”

“You can use a basket but I’m sticking with a bowl.”

“Are you serious?” I shook my head as I placed the basket back on the counter-top. “It’s not like I’m asking you to have the basket draped on your arm and skip out to the garden.”

Alex went over to the drawer that we kept the scissors and took them out. “Well, that’s how I see it in my head when you try to hand me a basket.” He laughed as he headed out the back door.

I was whistling while I put the pasta in the boiling water when Alex came back in. “Are these enough?” He asked as he held out the bowl.

“Perfect!” I gave the pasta a quick stir and took the bowl from him and began whistling again.

“What’s that song you’re whistling?” He asked.

I took the bowl from him and went over to the sink to rinse them off. “It’s an Ella Fitzgerald song: A-tisket, a-tasket a brown and yellow basket. I sent a letter to my Mommy and on my way I lost it…”

“Wait.” Alex shook his head. “They wrote a whole song about someone losing a basket?”

I looked over at him and nodded. “It was actually a breakthrough hit for her.”

Alex laughed still shaking his head. “What a weird thing to write a song about.”

“Hey, it was a simpler time back then.” I went to the refrigerator to get the mozzarella. “In all honesty I’d rather be singing a song about losing a basket then singing some of the stuff they write about today.”

“True.” Alex shrugged his shoulders as he went into the cabinet to get the plates for the dinner table. “Are we eating inside or out?”

“Let’s eat outside! It’s so beautiful out!” I got the knives and forks out of the drawer, grabbed some napkins and put them in the basket. “Here.” I held the basket out to him. “You can use this to make it easier.”

Alex laughed as he shook his head. “Still not using your basket.” He said as he reached in and scooped out the silverware and napkins and placed them on top of the plates before heading for the back door.

“Hey.” I called as I put the basket back on the counter. “You can’t fault me for trying!”