Lost in Translation

If you’ve ever spent any time what-so-ever on Cape Cod, you very quickly learn that left hand turns are a luxury, and that inconvenience VERY quickly marries with marathon traffic jams.

Stuck in just such a long line of traffic in the middle of July, was where Daughter #1 decided to let out a shriek, “Fried chicken! Fried chicken!” and began to gesture wildly in the direction of Burger King in Hyannis. She was about 18 months old at the time and I realized then that she had already been brainwashed by the TV I was letting her watch. Somehow, Clifford the Big Red Dog was drilling “eat at Burger King” to my little princess. Nevertheless, the line of cars we were stuck in was not even crawling, and being almost nine months pregnant with the bladder the size of a thimble, I did the only sensible thing to do. I swung my car into the fast food parking lot (thankfully a right hand turn!) and waddled inside, all the while, my daughter skipping next to me screaming, “Fried chicken! Fried chicken! Fried chicken!”

I emerged about half an hour later, bag of nuggets and fries in one arm and bored little girl in the other. In the car, she nibbled on a couple of fries and threw the nuggets into nooks and crannies that were not meant to be reached by human hands. From that point forward, she had us trained.

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Categories: myrtle beach move | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

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2 thoughts on “Lost in Translation

  1. Teresa Cleveland Wendel

    A house by the sea? Oh how I’ve dreamed of a house by the sea!

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