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.
Oh my, that Monkey. Thanks for putting me in a good mood this morning by relating your tale. I’m also happy because an offensive tackle for the Dallas Cowboys just started following me on Twitter, although I have no idea why.
Can I borrow Monkey for awhile? I’m having a tough week and I could use a bit of his sunshine! :)
LOL oh geez. I want to come to dinner with you guys sometime ;) Too funny!
(Oh, and I’m with Katie – but I’d also like some of the margaritas :P )
That boy is just so sweet! Ever start laughing and can’t stop….that’s me now. =)
My mother-in-law, my daughter and I were in a supermarket that also sold beer and wine. We were picking up juice boxes, discussing who they were for (play group), and we discussed how she drinks juice, and Dad drinks coffee, and Mom drinks Diet Coke – and her 3 year old self yelled, at seeing a large display of Heineken, (an occasional indulgence of my mother-in law) – “Look – Grandma’s juice!”
Couldn’t. Stop. Laughing.
Mother-in-law? Not so much. Ooops! ;-)
Every now and then when a Monkey story reminds me so strongly of my own son, I forward it to my partner. We’re having him tested for Asperger’s this summer. If we get a diagnosis, you may be getting an email full of questions from me.
Anyway, thanks for the stories that help me think things might turn out okay.
I love it. Our friend’s son is an aspie and he comes out with the funniest lines. They keep you on your toes. You just never know what is around the corner!
We refer to coffee, tea and alcohol as “mommy / dadd) drinks.”. It makes for easy short hand with our 4 & 6 yo girls. The younger one is a bit litteral herself, though, and was apoplectic to find Grandma drinking a “daddy drink.” We had to explain that Daddy is willing to share.
Yikes. I typed that on my blackberry, and clearly need to get a better prescriptiom for my reading glasses. Sorry for all the typos.
Love that boy. And oh, for a plate of that melted cheese with hints of tortillas…. and a marquerita or too, with salt, please.
or two. I’m not that illiterate. BEFORE a marguerita or two, anyway.
Did I spell iliterate wrong? *sigh*
I once said loudly in a restaurant, “but mom! you and dad drink and drive!”
My mom was mortified, but replied, and tell everyone what we drink while we drive, which was, of course, coffee.
Excellent recovery on Monkey’s part — saving your reputation. :-)
My daughter loved playing the idioms game on Funbrain. If permitted I will post the link.
Didn’t think I’d be able to get past your pants talking funny, but the drinking too much!
Felt because I seem to have my klutziest moments two sips into my first drink, then am all self-concious about people thinking I’m a lush.
And the enemy-homophones! I still remember my own childhood difficulties with them, so I’m always aware when such a word is lurking about ready to confuse my kid, and step in to unconfuse her. Hopefully.
Hee! You’ve got funny kids.
I totally, totally love your boy! My 18 year old is still very literal, courtesy of his Asperger’s. He is learning, thank heavens, to read between the lines – sometimes. My favorite line in this whole bit is the idea that your pants might talk funny. Well, isn’t that what a transplanted New Englander would think when confronted with the word accent?
Must stop now before I start to hiccup – and I’m not even drinking!
It is okay – my daughter (who is three) wants to scan the wine at the grocery store since it is for Daddy and at Trader Joe’s tells the checkout guy that this is Mommy’s favorite store because of the tomatoes and that (pointing to the wine). Oddly enough – we have had the same bottle vacu vinned on the counter for over a week. Love kids really