My six-year-old twins, Vivian and William, have decided to open a restaurant. Vivian is the maitre d’, the chef, the owner, and the waitress. William is the guy who trails after her. Think Remy from Ratatouille, without the influence.
So, I’m sitting (which, according to my son, is my best skill) when the basement door opens. Vivian walks forward; William follows.
“Madame,” Vivian says, holding out a miniature Dutch oven, “Vould you care for zum Chicken Soup?” Vivian is demonstrating my speaking-in-accent philosophy: the more different accents you can slip into the same sentence, the better.
“Bien sur,” I answer.
William has stepped forward now, executing an opening punch from a Taekwondo pattern. In his fist is a plastic spoon.
I uncurl his fingers and remove it.
I look back to Vivian, then reach and remove the lid from the pot. I see this:
Using my recently acquired, over-the-top acting skills, I croon over how marvelous the zoup is. I kiss my fingers for emphasis, an action I’ve never seen anyone French do.
“What else vould you like?” Vivian asks.
I pause, trying hard to remember what other plastic food we have in the basement.
“Some orange juice?”
“Okay, please vait,” she answers.
Vivian waltzes over to my husband. William follows. It’s no longer Remy he resembles but Mr. Bean. Think Christmas turkey on his head, and you’re close.
“Some chicken zoup, monsieur?” she asks.
My husband mimes sipping the soup, making me believe carcass-in-a-pot is better than anything I’ve cooked recently.
“Vhat else would you like?” Vivian asks.
He smiles. I know something’s coming. “Your phone number?” he says.
Just before I say That’s not funny, Vivian adds, without missing a beat, “That’s not on the menu.”
No, it’s not, I think. And it won’t be for a long time.
I watch Vivian sashay to the basement door, followed by William, whose shuffle now resembles that of Tim Conway.
Mesdames et Messieurs, zee restaurant is closed, eh?
*
She’s quick, that girl. Her verbal fencing skills will be extremely sharp by the time she needs them!
You’re right. And that makes me very happy.
Um. You know that she’s going to be going after 20yos when she’s 16, and scaring the living daylights out of the poor boys, right? ;>)
The 20-year-old part scares me, but I like the scaring them aspect.
Good answer, Vivian! A virtual high five from me and my daughter!
Thanks, Larry. Wit as a weapon for women. I’ll back that movement.
What a fun bonding time. Your kids are so creative, and clever, too!
And crazy. You forgot crazy.
I always love the guy that brings our food and performs a little Taekwondo simultaneously. That’s the mark of good service.
Hellcat is big into the kitchen we have downstairs and serving others. Water is her favorite course. Every time you go to pick up a mini skillet or cup or blender it is filled with water, but you usually don’t realize that until you’ve dumped it out on yourself.
Chase, always making me laugh. Somehow I think if we got Hellcat and Vivian together, we’d have enough blog material for a year. Who knows if either of us would still be able to write, though.
Too cute!
If only your children had clear and visible personalities.
Ha. They get their good traits from me.
Sounds like your daughter is developing a quick wit. Wonder where she gets that from…
True enough. I’m dead when she fully understands sarcasm.
Love it. I hope we get more use out of all our kitchen-themed toys when my daughter comes of age. Plastic chicken roasts were mini footballs and spatulas were samurai swords to my boy. He does, however, have a pretty ridiculous French accent.
“Woood yu like zum chess?” And then he pretends he’s given you a cheese-wrapped bomb and the second you “bite” into it, he shrieks that you’re going to explode, then runs for cover. If only he knew how accurate he’s portraying my time in the kitchen.
I love the bomb! I think I’d enjoy this more than the virtual eating.
I love best that you both entered so willingly, happily into the spirit of the game. Your kids crack me up!
I’m thinking of living in the make believe world forever.
The more accents in one sentence? The better.
Love it.
I want to come live at your house. (or at least eat dinner there…)
(Your number? Ha! You are ALLLLL hilarious. And martial-arts talented. Magnifique! – picture me kissing my fingers here…)
Somehow I don’t have much trouble imagining you kissing your fingers. Come to our house for dinner. Let the chaos begin.
Haha, thanks for sharing! I love it when I laugh out loud in front of a computer screen, while sitting by myself. Vivian’s a witty one – she must get it from her mom. 🙂
I needed wit to survive in my family; I suspect Vivian does too. Enjoy your day!
So funny! My little girl is almost 2 and she loves playing with the “kitchen” we have in the family room. Always bringing us some sort of concoction she’s put together for us to eat.
How fun. I wish I’d kept track of some of the earlier “meals” they made us. I missed out on a lot of blog material. 😉
The day her phone number makes its way on to the menu I suggest having her avoid any and all men with 2 or more accents in their sentences; girls are suckers for exotic accents.
Although with her brother’s taekwondo punch alongside I doubt she’ll have to worry ;P
Well said.
Her mother’s a bit of a sucker for accents, too.
great post, and love the visual! although i can’t stop thinking about poor Thing 1’s head stuck under the lid of the pot. but i’ll get over it. some day…
Well, the pot lid originally fell there, and since William didn’t really have a voice –
Hope you don’t have nightmares.
Thanks for the memories, Leanne…pretend tea parties with dishes that had been used in sand at the beach…yum…
Wendy
How I love beach side restaurants! 😉
Your daughter kills me.
I love her.
We have the same chicken.
It’s delicious.
Ditto the above comments – I love this post.
Glad you too have enjoyed plastic chicken. Good to know that’ll be in a landfill some day, eh?
What a bright girl you have! We play restaurant here too, it’s a favorite game. Most of our food has been ‘pre-chewed’ by our pooch though :/
Nice. I bet dog-chewing tenderizes the meat.
The hours of fun & crazy things they come up with when playing with plastic food is amazing.
Sounds like your kids have a winner on their hands! Are they ready to franchise?
I’m ready to monetize just about anything.
Cutest story ever! I love that the kids do accents. I did that all the time when I was…I still do it. I would read books aloud and every page would be in a new accent so I could practice pronounzing ze wordz!
I agree – accents are fun. In fact, reading in accents is the only way I’ve survived rereading the same children’s books every night. (The Cat in the Hat, by the way, sounds best in a posh British accent).
I think plastic food may be for dinner tonight.