A Quick Spanish Lesson for My Husband
My darling husband has a slightly inflated impression of my foreign language abilities. A haggling session in Cuzco left him believing that my Spanish was far better than it actually is (It’s not that great. I am, however, an awesome haggler). I allow it, of course. We all believe slight exaggerations about our loved ones. He wants to think I speak perfect Spanish? Fine by me. If he believes I’m trilingual, then I get to believe he’s suave enough to give Cary Grant a run for his money.
What? It could happen.
Besides, it’s not all untrue: I do have enough basic knowledge left over from high school Spanish that I can be of some help when we’re in Spain or South America. Not much, mind you, but enough to (hopefully) not get him arrested. For example, when were in Madrid he saw a sign that said señoras …
… and he reacted thusly:
Sorry, darling. That is incorrect. Let’s try again. Here’s another sign. What do you think it means?
OH THANK HEAVENS, YOU ARE NOT JUST A PRETTY FACE:
Very good, darling. I’ve never been prouder.
Yes, yes, you are fantastic. I’m getting you a churro, Mr. Grant. Maybe even two.
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