Dads were talking about a Three Kings Parade
they went to last night. They said it was a good thing they didn’t bring me as
there were so many humans there and I might have been trampled on – stupid humans.
There were, however, some big-girl doggies there, just my style, I would have
liked to see those perras.
The parade had light-up floats, colorful performers, dancers, cartoon characters, crazy pirates, and music – classical and current. The parade route was jam packed with lots of families with those mini-humans. When the big floats went by, the different characters on board would toss out handfuls of candy, and the humans on the street, especially the mini ones, would go nuts trying to catch it. I know I would – food, yay! There were even humans there with inside-out umbrellas trying to get as much loot as they could.
Apparently here in Spain, Christmas is not such a biggie as Three Kings Day, Dad said it’s called Epiphany in the States. Día de los Reyes is the day when the three kings came to visit the baby Jesus (big ups, J-dude) and presented him with gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, whatever that is, doesn’t sound too tasty.
So, this morning I am sitting on Dad’s lap at the eating table with a box of yumminess in front of us. Dad says it’s the Roscón de Reyes, the ring of the kings or the King Cake. It looks like a big circle of toasty dough (an oversized donut – I love those) covered in nuts and candied fruits, like that fruity cake Other Dad likes to eat around this time of year. I can see that it is filled with cream (Dad says it can also come with custard or chocolate). Tradition says you eat it on the morning of Three Kings Day, dipping it in hot chocolate. There’s a cup of the dark gooey stuff over on the side, they won’t be giving any of that to me, I bet.
“There’s a plastic toy hidden in the cake and
whoever gets it in their slice, is the king for the day and gets to wear the
crown,” Dad says. “There’s also a bean in the cake and if you get that, you
have to buy next year’s cake.”
Other Dad cuts the yumminess and gives the
first slice to Dad (and me!). “Oh look, there it is,” he says. “What is it?”
Dad pulls out a little cellophane covered toy.
“It looks like a little Donald Trump with fake blond hair, orange face, and an awful
blue suit.” Unwrapping the toy, Dad says, “Oh, it’s actually a little king. So,
which one is it, Melchior, Caspar, or Balthazar?”
“I guess it’s not Balthazar as he was the dark-skinned one. Actually, shouldn’t they all have dark skin? Where are they supposed to be from anyway?”
“Depends on who you ask.”
Other Dad puts a gold crown on Dad’s head. “You are the king for the day, you get to wear the cardboard tiara!”
Dad laughs as he takes his first bite of the dough-lightful treat. “Oh my god, that is so good, so sweet. I don’t think I need to dip it in the chocolate, but I will.” I lunge forward trying to help celebrate the holiday, but he is not giving up any of the good stuff. “Sorry Scraps, none for doggies.” He puts the crown on my head. “You can be the king.” He bows his head and says, “Your Highness.”
What’s he on about? I’m always the king. I
shake my head and grab the crown in my mouth – ooh, yuck. So that’s gold and it’s
not so yummy. When do I get the frankincense and myrrh?