Los Chicos Ridiculos...

Before I learned ASL in college and graduate school, my "first other language" was Spanish. Back in the days of my educational career, one didn't start studying a second language until High School. So as a Freshman, I signed up for Espanol, and from the first "Como se llama usted?" I was hooked. Due to a glitch in my schedule, and the absentmindedness of la maestra (que Dios le bendiga), I ended up squeezing 5-years' worth of instruction into my four year stint. So by the time I landed in college, my score on the Language Placement Exam allowed me to bypass the "Yo soy de Puerto Rico, de donde es usted?" stage and skip right to the fun stuff--courses like History, Art, and Literature, all taught completely in Spanish, taken by Language Majors and (better yet) Native Speakers. It. Was. Awesome!

Of course, nowadays, I don't get many opportunities to use Spanish--a fact which pains me to no end. So I've been eagerly anticipating the time when Derek finally begins his own Foreign Language instruction. (Which will be Spanish...he just doesn't have a choice in the matter. What do you mean, it's not all about me?) In the modern era, they apparently start 'em in Middle School. But this year we opted for the Reading Class instead, as it came recommended by other parents who've been through the 6th Grade Experience already. So we actually have until 7th grade for me to truly start practicing on--I mean with--Derek as my guinea pig...um, "conversational partner". Until then, I sometimes amuse myself by tossing out Spanish words anyway, whether or not the boys will understand what I'm babbling about. (Seems fair, doesn't it? With all the nonsense I listen to on a daily basis?)

For example, the other night we were all sitting in my room, reading our own novels, when I glanced up and noticed that it was getting late. Here is the exact exchange that followed:
"When do you want to be tucked in?" I inquired of Riley, snuggled up against me.
"In 3 minutes," he sleepily answered.
"Okay," I nodded, "tres minutos."
(He shot me a "what the heck?" look but refrained from responding...)
However, from across the room in the reclining chair, Derek snorted with laughter and incredulously spit out, "Press my noodles? Is that what you said?"
I believe at this point I sighed resignedly and agreed that yes, indeed, that was precisely what I had said.

It seems I had piqued Riley's interest, though, and he pressed me for more vocabulary--so I did the usual naming of eyes, nose, ears, mouth...until he interrupted me to ask earnestly, gazing directly into my eyes, with absolute gravity, "What's the word for butt?" Yeah, RIGHT, like I'm telling you that! You must be loco, mi hijo! So he backed off, "Okay, how about something appropriate, like shirt?" Sure, I can share that one: la camisa. Immediately he turned to Derek and called, "Hey, dude, nice la camisa!" And for the next half-hour or so, the only thing I heard was "la camisa this" and "la camisa that" tossed into every possible sentence either one of them spoke. Ay yi yi.  Finally, after I was practically ready to golpear them upside their cabezas, Riley came to the rescue. Either he had grown weary of the phrase himself, or he sensed I was near my flashpoint, because I overheard him gently admonishing his brother, "Okay, Derek, let's not use it for evil, now..."

Ah, just another dia with my beloved little...how do you say "goofballs" in Spanish?