You Can Call Me Dr. Knownothing
More tales from the Midwest...
While my friend's youngest daughter was doing her best to give me the bird flu, her oldest was slowing but surely learning how incompetent I am. In my defense, I blame my parents.
During my visit my she realized that Halta Lorelai can't cook anything without a microwave (which they don't have). I can't read Arabic, and I don't celebrate Eid (I "make Christmas" as she told me). I also can't speak Arabic, and this was by far the hardest thing for her to understand. One day at lunch she turns to me and says,
"Halta Lorelai can you say television in Arabic?"
"Nope. How do you say it?"
"Television (said with an accent). Do you know how to say table?"
"Sure don't. Tell me,"
"Table (said with more of a french accent, but table nonetheless)."
And then she began teaching me how to say things in English. I tried to explain that I knew English, but it was too late. I was officially dumb to a 4 year old.
Every time she asked me about the things I couldn't do she would then ask, "But didn't your mommy teach you?" I had to explain that my mom doesn't speak Arabic, she doesn't cook Arabic food, and she makes Christmas not Eid.
On my last day as I gathered up my luggage I stopped to take one last picture of my friend in her home. I had this giant travel back pack on, and I stepped wrong and fell. I ended up on my back not unlike a turtle who was flipped over. On the way to the airport, all the girls could talk about was that time I fell.
"Remember that time you fell Halta Lorelai?"
"I sure do it just happened?"
"That was so funny how you fell all the time."
"It was once, but yeah it was funny. "