Here’s a gift to you from G today. It’s pronounced “sow-dah-day.” Portuguese is the only language that has a noun for this feeling.
Here’s another scene from the improvisational play that G and I have been working on for seven years. It’s called “Lost In Translation.” What? Someone already used that? Oh. Well, then let’s call it “New Adventures in PorkaCheese.” Victoria never could manage “Portuguese” so it turned into “PorkaCheese” and we decided to keep it. Vivi calls it “Brasil Talk.”
So yesterday afternoon, I pull into the garage with a carload of kids and G comes out to help with the offloading. Carlos is in the “HeyCoolICanTakeOffMyShoes!” phase, so he was barefoot. G unstraps Vivi and asks her how her day was. He unbuckles Carlos and chats with him. While this is unfolding, I’m preoccupied with getting my phone off the charger up in the front seat. Then he asks me, “Mom, do you have issues?”
It’s a big question for right when you get home from work, but I was really touched that he wanted to take some time to get to know what was going on inside my head. I answered, “Well, I guess so. I had a pretty good day, but everyone has issues.” Blank stare. He repeats, “Do you have ISSUES?” Of course I do. That’s why I go to therapy. Then it dawns on me that there’s some meta-linguistic gesticulation going on in the back seat and I check the rear view mirror. G is pointing to Carlos’ bare feet. Ohhhhh….”Do you have his shoes?”‘
Yes, they are in my purse. Thanks for asking.
One Friday morning, the alarm went off and I slammed it into snooze. We were both lying there staring up at the ceiling when he said, “White or Wheat?” I wasn’t quite sure what he was getting at but I was glad that he was volunteering to make breakfast. I said, “I’m not sure we have the stuff for toast, but we’ve got waffles.” I turn my head to see him looking at me like I’m having a stroke. He had said, “WHAT A WEEK!” Ohhhhh.
I mean, I have a Southern accent, but he has a Southern hemisphere accent.
My favorite recent one was when my mom had come over to babysit, so G said, “Why don’t we take her to that restaurant she likes….what is it….Barrel of Butter?” You mean Cracker Barrel, honey? Sure.