We try very hard to do a few special things with each kid when we have just one of them, so last night we took Monkey out for dinner to his favorite restaurant. What he likes best about it is that the nachos are not so much tortilla chips covered in cheese as they are a plate of cheese with a tortilla garnish.
What Otto and I like best about it is that the margaritas are very cheap. So.
Somehow we got sucked into one of those circuitous conversations where Literal Boy’s brain has a small short-circuit; I had said something about pants that accentuated my hips (no, I don’t know why were taking about this), and Monkey said he wasn’t sure what accentuated meant, so Otto—ever the teacher—asked him what word he could find in “accentuate,” so Monkey thought about it and proudly exclaimed “ACCENT!”
“That’s right,” said Otto. “So from that, can you figure it out?”
“Your pants talk funny?” he asked me, thoroughly confused.
Then we had to talk about different kinds of accents. There’s the accent people have when speaking, there’s accent marks in writing, there’s accents in decorating, etc. I thought Monkey’s head was going to explode. (Homophones: Enemy of Aspies everywhere.)
Of course, as Monkey is wont to do, once he realized that his exasperation was amusing to me, he started completely hamming it up. So I started laughing even harder. And before I knew it, I had the hiccups.
“Now look what you’ve done!” I said to him, in mock exasperation. “Now I’ve—hic—got the hiccups!”
Monkey laughed and fairly shouted, “WELL THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DRINK TOO MUCH!”
Now, I have to tell you. It was a Tuesday night, and we’d gone out fairly early, so the restaurant wasn’t particularly crowded. From where we were sitting, I could only see people at two other tables. Nevertheless, time screeched into slow motion as alllll those other patrons swiveled their heads in our direction to behold me—margarita in hand—laughing and hiccuping. Uncontrollably. While Otto shushed and gaped at Monkey.
“I AM NOT—hic—HICCUPING BECAUSE I’VE HAD TOO MUCH TO DRINK!” I protested, probably a little too loud, because that seemed only slightly less awkward that standing on the table and announcing “I’ve only had half a glass and I’m not convinced these even have alcohol in them! HONEST!” But I couldn’t stop laughing, which may have made my assertion appear less sober than it actually was.
Everyone was still looking. Monkey was looking at us. Realization of what he’d just said (and the implication therein) slowly dawned. And lo, the fruit of my loins didst begin to backpedal, and it was highly entertaining.
“I mean you’ve had too much WATER!” he continued, frantic. “You drink a lot of water, Mama! That can make you hiccup! I read it in a book!!”
At that point both Otto and I completely lost it, onlookers be damned.
It’s true, we bring our own entertainment when we go out. I don’t know why we even bother with the margaritas.