I am nine or ten years old.
My mother, aunt, and I are in the kitchen.
It is summer.
Mom is making eggs, or maybe French toast, for breakfast. Since I am just standing there like a lump watching her, she goes to me first when she needs help.
"R, go get me the whisk, please?" She asks.
I am confused, but I obey. I return about five seconds later, from the laundry room next to the kitchen, laundry detergent in hand.
"What is that?" my mother says.
"The Wisk," I respond.
My aunt laughs, and my mom calls me an idiot.
I learn what a whisk is, and what it feels like to have my mother tongue betray me.
-R
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This is my girlfriend, too. Her family calls her Amelia Bedelia. I hear stories all the time.
ReplyDeleteHahaha, Amelia Bedelia. Perfect name for it! I have lots of memories of taking things very literally as a kid!
ReplyDeleteWhen I was younger I was told to go draw a bath. 10 minutes later I come back crying, pen and paper in hand, that I cannot draw a bath.
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