Oink

To the Teacher Who Had the Misfortune of Opening Our Car Door in the Morning Drop-Off Line,

Oinking.  Yes, that was oinking you just heard spilling out of our minivan, followed by fits of laughter.  But it's okay - my dear children were just imitating their mother.  I am very mature and proper, obviously.

It's my oldest child's fault, really.

She was talking about starting Chinese class at school, and it reminded me of that time we went to a large Chinese New Year celebration when she was a toddler.

How I had been taught how to say "thank you" in Mandarin by our dear friend and host.  And how I "Xièxiè"ed so much, that the ladies in the serving line finally told me I didn't have to say that Every. Single. Time. they loaded food on my plate.

I am nothing if not (over) polite - especially in foreign languages.

Then there was the roasted pig. With cherries for eyes.  (I don't know where they grow Goliath pigs, but this one had it's very own table.  Not that he cared.)

I really wanted to be a gracious guest and not refuse the cherry-eye offered by our friend to my cherubic 18 month old, plucked straight from the poor porker's eye socket.

(Did I mention I was a vegetarian? And seeing a whole pig laid out on the table was a bit much for my stomach. I was going to cruise on by, but no such luck. It didn't help that now, with one less cherry-eye, it appeared to be winking at me. Back off, man.)

And how I cheered on the inside when angel-baby accidentally dropped it on the ground, while on the outside dutifully lamenting the loss of eating such a delightful treat. "Awww, oh no!  That's okay, sweetie.  Here, have a (non-pork-or-body-part-related) sucker instead . . ."

Fast-forward to our morning school commute, and relating the story may have led to a reenactment on my part in the car of a pig with cherry-eyes.

Which may have led all my children to hold fists up to their eyes and oink like there was no tomorrow (quite accurate for a cherry-eyed pig, actually).

And then the door opened, and we were oinking and crying for laughing so hard.  You smiled politely, bless your heart.  They just really don't pay your sweet soul enough for what you endure each day.

So, yes, that was oinking.  And if you overhear my child talking about a cherry-eyed pig wearing a fanny pack?  Well, that's a whole other story.

Actually, I will just go ahead and apologize for whatever you hear tumbling out of our car tomorrow and every day thereafter until June.  Thank you for your service. You only have 15 more years of our family attending this school . . .

Regards,
"That Mom" in the blue minivan
(Oink)