But this Tuesday morning was different. Ramati did wake up as usual, but dressed up as a pirate. He put on his sword and called to his mother: “Today I’m a pirate and you should obey me! Today you must do as I say!”
But it was already seven thirty in the morning and there was no time to play. “Hurry up, sweetie. You’ll be late to school,” his mother said.
“I’m not going! I told you, I’m a pirate and I’m not going to school!”
“Young man!” his mother said, “get dressed now! Put on your jacket and shoes! You can be a pirate after school.”
“No way!” Ramati said. “Pirates don’t go to school!”
He ran to his room and got into bed.
Mom is so annoying, he thought. She doesn’t understand that I’m a pirate today. I wish I had a better mom.
But, wait! Hiding under his blanket he remembered seeing a moms’ store once:
At the edge of the city, by the side of the road, the last store in the row. It was pink with yellow dots and a red sign that read: “MOMS R US”.
That’s it! he thought. It’s about time I replaced my mom.
Very quietly he sneaked out of his room. His mother was standing by the door, with his backpack and the keys in her hands.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
Ramati did not answer - he had a plan.
He went to the closet and got a big box and plenty of shiny wrapping paper.
With the box in his hand he hid behind the corner and waited. Then, at the moment his mother knelt down to tie her shoelaces, Ramati sprang over and covered her with the big box. Then he closed the box.
His mother was shouting from inside: “What are you doing? I told you there is no time to play this morning! You’re getting a time-out! You forgot how to behave!”
But Ramati didn’t listen to her. He was busy wrapping the big box as nicely as he could.
When he was done, mom looked marvelous. She was wrapped in blue paper with golden stars and little flying dragons.
Now it was time to take mom to the store. “In the stroller!” the pirate ordered loudly.
And the box landed right in the stroller.
Ramati was ready to go.
He pushed uphill then downhill; it wasn’t that easy at all.
At last, at the edge of the city by the side of the road, there it was: the last store in the row. A beautiful store with a big red sign: “MOMS R US.”
In small letters it read: “We have every kind of mom, even the rarest.”
Ramati entered the store. He looked around and saw a bulky man in a dark blue suit with silver buttons.
“Hi Mr. Storekeeper” the pirate said, “I brought my mom. I want to replace her.”
“Let’s have a look at her,” the storekeeper answered and unwrapped Ramati’s big package.
Ramati’s mother had brown curly hair. She wore glasses. Small freckles dotted her nose. She wasn’t too tall and she wasn’t too small. She looked just fine.
“OK, I can replace her,” the storekeeper said. He took Ramati’s mother and set her on the high shelf, behind his counter.
The store was full of mothers, mothers everywhere – from top to bottom, row after row, all waiting, just for him.
He heard: “Pirate, come over here.” And: “Pirate, take me as your mother.”
In the left row Ramati saw a spectacular mother. She was wearing a red dress printed with colorful flowers. Her long dark hair was tied with a golden ribbon, and her eyes were honey colored. Her shoes were bright red, and so were her lips.
“She’s so fancy,” he whispered. “That’s the mom I want.”
Ramati took a closer look. Very carefully, he touched the flowers on her dress. But the moment he did he heard a shout:
“Pirate, don’t touch my dress! You’ll dirty it! No one touches my dress!”
Ramati was scared. He looked at his hands. His hands were clean. He looked again at the beautiful mother who had yelled so shrilly. She wasn’t pretty any more - she was a yelling mother. He didn’t want a yelling mother. He walked on.
As he wandered along the aisles, chocolate and vanilla scents tickled his nose.
Ramati followed the smell: “Brownies? My favorite?”
Around the corner he saw a little mother wearing an apron. She was standing by a big table loaded with food.
“I love brownies. May I have one?” Ramati asked.
“My dear,” she said, “first you’ll have to eat fish with potato and after that meat with tomato. Proteins, vitamins, and carbohydrates, that’s what you need to grow fast!”
Pro-teens, vita-beans and carbo-rats, what is that? Ramati wondered.
“I had my breakfast at home,” he said. “Can’t I have just the brownies for a snack?”
“Brownies are all sugar and fat. They’re not good for you, my little pirate.”
“But I want brownies!“ Ramati said and turned away.
He looked up and he looked down. When he turned right, he heard a clear voice: “Who wants to play with me?”
A mother wearing a T-shirt, shorts and sneakers invited him to play. She was juggling and jumping and skipping.
“What a mom! We can play all day.” He sprinted over and asked: “Can you teach me how to juggle?”
“I’d love to!” the playful mother said. “I’ll teach you how to skip and jump and juggle. Then we’ll walk the high wire. We’ll have so much fun!”
“Cool” Ramati thought, “she’s the best one.”
They played and played without stopping. By the end of the day, Ramati was exhausted. “I’ve had enough,” he told the mother. “I want to sleep.”
“Oh no!” she said. “I want you to be the best, the first, the tops! pirates have no time for a rest.”
Ramati was worried. What will happen if I’m not the best? He turned around and walked away.
Now Ramati was tired and lonely. He had been all over the store and there was not a single mother just for him. “Will I ever find my perfect mom?” He sighed as he headed slowly towards the door.
Just then he noticed the high shelf behind the storekeeper’s counter. One mother sat alone on that shelf. Her hair was curly brown. She wore glasses over her freckled nose. She wasn’t too tall and she wasn’t too small. She looked just fine. She was sitting up there very quietly, and suddenly Ramati knew that she was the best mom in the world.
She’s the mom who lets me touch her fancy dress.
She’s the mom who says, “You don’t have to clean your plate.”
And she lets me (sometimes) eat the dessert first.
She takes me to the park and runs with me just for fun.
And then she always says: “let’s have a rest.”
To her I’m always the very best.
Ramati slipped behind the counter, climbed the ladder and asked: “Do you want to be my mom?”
Mom smiled, gave him a big hug and a big kiss and said: “That’s the thing I want most of all. I want to be your mom – my little son, my beloved one.”
Ramati gave her his hand. Together, hand in hand, they walked back home.
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