Sense of Sense

Honey Roasted Chicken

Zain, carrying his little legs, ran into the house, making the bag with the picture of lego on his back move up and down in unison with the drinking bottle he was holding in his hand. With a loud voice the child gave a greeting and then called his favorite mother.

“Mood!” he yelled towards Sapphira who was in the kitchen. Then when Safira's visual was in front of his eyes, Zain immediately hugged Safira's legs tightly. “Assalamu’alaikum, beautiful mamahnya Zain.”

“Wa’alaikummussalam, his handsome son mamah.” Safira looked down and found Zain's face glittering at him. “Mas Zain kok, screaming while entering the house. Not polite handsome boy, do not repeat again.”

Zain smiled wryly and laughed innocently. “Sorry, mah. Zain can't wait to meet mamah.”

Safira smears a smile. She actually knew that her son was seducing her and the only reason was because since last night Zain had asked to eat honey-baked chicken with additional shrimp crackers. No wonder his son was acting so much sweeter than usual.

Sapphira reached out, stroking Zain's head to the top while aligning her body with Zain's until the hug on her leg came off. “Such sweet speech of his son mamah this one,” said Safira, deskwil tops of Zain's nose. “Now change clothes first after that we have lunch together, yes?”

“Mas Alvin?”

“Mas Alvin ‘kan, home still later.”

Zain patted his forehead. “Oh! Aye, yes. Zain. If so Zain change clothes first, mah.”

Sapphira could only shake her head at Zain's behavior. Then from the direction of the living room there was the sound of Ashqar reciting greetings and followed by a strapping visual wrapped in a sky blue shirt whose arms rolled up to the elbow running towards him.

“Wa’alaikummussalam, mas,” Safira said as Ashqar stood in front of her. “Mas change first, I want angetin lunch.”

“Beautiful my wife,” said Ashqar, poking Safira's chin. Ashqar then looked around the house. “Harsha where?”

“Sleep.”

Safira began to heat the grill on the stove, taking out a box containing soy sauce seasoning chicken.

“Mbak Jum?”

“Nganter roundtrip to Bu RT.” Safira raised her face. “Who else would you like to ask?”

Instead of answering Safira's questions, Ashqar actually locked his mouth tightly with a smile knots ala model advertising toothpaste. However, in addition, he quickly steals a kiss on the lips and immediately breezes away towards the room leaving Safira who is sculpting with a sizzling hot grill.

Sapphira's thin lips continue to mumble Ashqar's behavior, about how her husband almost always seeks and steals the opportunity to tease her, especially when it is quiet. Although he was busy with his work, Safira's mind was instantly distracted by a brief kiss a moment ago. It made Safira's face red and hot.

Safira flicked his palm in front of his face while the other hand he used to flip pieces of chicken meat on the grill. Until Zain finally came and questioned his actions, Safira hurriedly gave an excuse.

The smell of sweet and savory aroma spread to the dining room next to the kitchen. At the dinner table was sitting next to the couple and in front of them Zain was already busy with a plate of rice plus two pieces of honey-baked chicken thighs held in his right and left hands.

“Mas Zain, hold the chicken one time not two so,” reprimand Ashqar when Zain eats chicken meat alternately on his right and left hands.

“Tenapha, pah?” zain asked, his mouth full of food.

“Try putting the chicken first in the left hand,” Ashqar said. As soon as Zain obeyed his words, Ashqar continued, “Mas Zain, eat with two hands at once continue to bite alternately as it can not. Do you know why?”

Zain shook his head.

“Because it's not polite. Like greedy people, like people who never eat. Yes ‘kan, mah?”

Safira smears a smile. It could have been her husband throwing a ball at her so she could explain more to Zain. With a smooth motion already planned, Sapphira took a tissue and wiped the sauce in Zain's mouth.

“Papah is right, Son. Eating it should be slow, if in a hurry later it can choke.”

“Kaya time Zain ate cassava chips huh, mah?” ask Zain. “Sick neck with nose Zain.”

Safira nosed the top of Zain's nose. “Tomorrow. Continue if you eat in a hurry until the right hand-left up all, it is not polite. Mas Zian at school ‘kan, tajararin adab good eating. Inget not taught by the teacher?”

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