Okay, so, a mom, her American son, and her Haitian daughter walk into a Mexican restaurant . . . after reviewing the "inside voices" expectation, and they are seated in a booth. Sodas are ordered, nachos and salsa crunched, hot food is on the way. The only item on the girl's plate she doesn't much appreciate is exactly what brother is coveting. The sauteed seafood is transferred from one to the other, and both are pleased.
Daughter's south island taste dares the dare; she tries a drop from every bottle of hot sauce (yes, including the habernero, and the xxxtra hot habernero), and likes them all.
The son who must be related to "Elf" (Will Ferrell character in tights, believes he's an elf; lives on sugar, candy, and syrup; it's the sugar part, not the tights that pertains to the boy) decides something unbelievable -- the sopapillas are too sweet (drizzled with honey). (So the mom takes one for the team and finishes the dessert. I know, parenthood is about sacrifices.)
And after a dinner of magnificent manners and restaurant-appropriate voice volume, the daughter can't help but comment privately with criticism about the ladies two booths behind us -- "Mom, they are talking loud!"
And as we enter our home, Kreyol-speaking daughter who is growing beautifully in her use of English begins counting her footsteps aloud -- uno, dos, tres, quatro . . . in Spanish.
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