So, we went out for Mexican food last night for The Man's birthday. Or, I went out for tequila and they went out for food. El Niño loves it because the people who work there are not tools like Mommy and he can habla the Español with them. They get a real kick out of the tiny little gringo and his perfect pronunciation and he gets a real kick out of their reactions. Unfortunately, they assume Mommy isn't a tool and they start speaking Spanish to me, too. Then we have conversations like this:
Waiter: ¿Es todo bien?
Mommy: Oh me? You're talking to me? Oh, I don't understand. Wait, no...did you ask if I wanted more tequila? Because, yes I do. Thank you. I mean gracias.
El niño: NO, Mom. Duh. He asked if everything was ok. Something in Spanish that Mommy doesn't understand because Mommy is a tool.
Mommy: Oh, I'm sorry. Yes, everything is good. Except with regard to the tequila, which should be más. But, everything else is great. Thank you. I mean, gracias.
El niño: El rollos the eye-o's.
Waiter: I'm just going to talk to the kid next time.
Mommy: You mean when you come back with the tequila?
Cheeseball likes to get into the act because she knows how to count to ten in Spanish and also she knows her colors. In fact, she knows a little song with all the colors that she likes to sing at top volume no matter where we are. Which, normally is fine. I mean whatever, Mommy can walk over here and pretend we're not together. No sweat.
But, she decided one day while at the commissary and while in the cart I was pushing and thus clearly attached to me to launch into the song then get stuck in repeat mode on one line. Over and over. And over. AND OVER. And that line was "black is negro, black is negro". OMG WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Ha ha ha (nervous laughter), GOOD SPANISH, BABY. Good SPANISH. (Sing another line, omg sing another line WHAT ARE YOU DOING?)
Kids. So much fun, you guys! And SO good at helping Mommy look like a tool. Not that Mommy needs much help in that department.
And speaking of tools, we bought some paint for the living room today. We decided we need to paint it all before we put up the Christmas tree and then can't access a corner of the room for the next month. We were all geared up to sand and paint the trim and at least get that knocked out today but then The Man took the coat closet door outside to fire up his power tools and sand it and I started playing with the outside fire pit and an hour later he was covered in sawdust and I reeked of campfire and then we were pretty much done for the day. So I'm blogging instead of painting and that's much better for both of us, isn't it?
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