The joys of learning American
A--- will you help me take the garbage out? Whats that she asks, genuinely puzzled. Then I realise she calls it trash. It’s time I bucked up and said it right for her. I pick up a pebble in the park for her collection and she looks puzzled again? Pebble?? Every size of stone is called a rock! Ha ha! I find this really funny.
Let’s get dressed for school baby girl. Go get me a blouse. No Gnamie we call a blouse a shirt, she says very matter of factly, and goes running into her closet to bring me one. That too is a new word for me -- closet. We dont say closet, normally its cupboard!
Then she comes home from gymnastics. Naturally I would like to see what she has learned there. Earlier I would go and see her as a toddler of three trying quite well to do a pulti. It went everywhere but straight. Now she says watch me and executes a perfect, what I call a pulti but is actually a somersault. Here she humours me and says Gnama I can do a pulti with a very nasal American twang. Very cute, and it makes me laugh.
And then the pièce de ré·sis·tance was when I was watching a nice plump Robin patrolling the lawn for worms after a heavy shower. Calling out to her I said, A---- come and see a nice FAT Robin running around the lawn. It was a lovely plump guy all puffed up against the cold. Immediately there was a big frown on her face. I was marched into the Laundry room and told I was in Time Out! Why?? I asked totally flummoxed. That’s ‘cause its a ‘put down’ she said frowning sternly at me.
The American had finally GOT the colonised Britisher!
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