November 9, 2009


Thaddeus attends a French something or other school. Basically, this means that he gets weekly French lessons. Which means that he comes home and tries to explain words to me and I just don't get it.

Blayne and Daniel are convinced they speak Spanish because, after all, they watch Diego and he speaks Spanish. At least when they say things to me, I usually know what they mean. One of the perks that comes from growing up in Arizona.

Taylor thinks she speaks English. Let me rephrase that. Taylor COMMANDS in English. It's the funniest thing I've ever seen or heard. First off, because she's tiny and doesn't know it. Secondly, because Daniel is putty in her hands. He does whatever she says, when she says it. Thirdly, she is quite the tattle tale. When she's not busy stealing treats from the pantry, she's telling me what all those other naughty kids are doing. She even puts her hand on her hip, points, and leans forward intensely while babbling vehemently in broken English. Totally cute AND funny.

Of course, of all the people in this house, the only person that truly knows a second language is the DadGuy. Sadly, Russian sounds funny so my kids think he's making fun of the way they talk. I'd like to say he's not, but I'm not entirely convinced of this myself.

Other languages we think we speak are Creole (thank you neighbor boy) and whichever language it is that they speak in Afghanistan (thank you other neighbor boy.)

Of course, this has nothing to do with me, nothing whatsoever.

Except for that whole part where they try to talk to me and I have no idea what they're saying, so they get all frustrated and angry and throw themselves on the floor because if I would just use my listening ears I would know what they were saying...

I love being a mom.