Monday, January 11, 2010
We Just Wanted Milk
We try not to eat out very often. I mean, you just never know what might happen. The Short One COULD stick his hand in a plate of nachos on another table, he COULD run over to a table full or paramedics and hug them while they're eating to tell them, "Thank you for keeping me safe, policemen"...when they're not policeman at all...lol...but the thought was sweet or...The Short One COULD toss a french fry into the hair of a lady sitting nearby. I'm just saying, hypothetically, these are all things that COULD and possibly HAVE happened.
Recently we went to one of our favorite Chinese Buffet Restaurants to eat dinner. The Short One is a BIG fan of Lo Mein, so we thought that sounded like a good choice for dinner. Only, little did we know...our waitress spoke very limited English, not a big deal, right? Well, to The Short One...it was. You see, he wanted milk to drink. So, when I asked her if they had milk, she gave me a puzzled look and started talking in a language I definitely didn't understand. The Short One was in one ear whining, "I Want Milk!" and the waitress was in the other ear saying...something. I said very precisely, "Milk" and pointed to The Short One, trying one more time. She continued saying something, pointing and then...it was my husband's turn. He said, "milk?" and made the motions for milking a cow...and pointed to The Short One once more. She motioned him over to the fountain drinks, pointing, carrying on about something or other...and I finally told my husband to just order him Sprite, it was okay. Except now, The Short One was, at the top of his lungs and in some deep, strange voice I have never heard before, repeating over and over, "MEEEEE-uuuuuuuuuul-kkkk"...I mean, it must have been the longest syllable word I had ever heard. I finally got him shushed and THOUGHT we were on a completely different subject, got up, visited the buffet, sat back down and then...the waitress came back with the Sprite. At this point, The Short One got on his knees, leaned over in front of her face and with the most precise lip movements I have ever seen, once again, moans..."Meeeeeeee-uuuuuulllll-kkkkk". I quickly shushed him and it worked...for a moment. However, after this same multi-syllable MILK was said to our poor waitress a number of times, with my most sincere smile, I gently SHOVED The Short One down into his chair until she was gone and then explained why we DO NOT mimic or harass the waitress who doesn't speak English. His response? "Mom, I was just trying to help her understand"...And, I'm sure he was...enjoying it all the while.