Tuesday, August 30, 2011
On the same street at the kids' gymnastics center are several hotels that cater to mid-budget beach goers.
Today, while passing a chain hotel, I heard Annike say under breath, "gross."
Annike is a shushy talker, all hers s's are said "schhhh" instead of "ssss". It's heartmelting. I attribute it to her terrible fall from the bathroom counter our last night in Ann Arbor. The fall that landed us in the ER with a middle of the night surgery involving reattaching the front of her tongue to the back of her tongue. Even to this day, she has an inflexible divot half-way back on her tongue. She also mispronounces her r's, just like Petra did.
So really, what she said sounded more like this, "gwosch."
Then, "you know when you go to vischit people and it isch faw away? And you can't stay with them beausche theiw housche isch too schmall? And scho you gotta schtay at a hotel?"
The rest of us, "ummmm . . ."
Annike, "you know?"
Annike, "well let'sch nevew schtay at that one. It schays on the schign that they have 'weekly ratsch'! That'sch scho gwosch! Why wouldn't they juscht get rid of them?"
Soren is long back to his book by now, Tova gives an empathetic "eww, rats."
Petra and I sit and think, out loud repeating, "weekly rats?"
Then we giggle.
I love being her mother. I do.
Annike is my funny one.