I have to preface this post by saying that my daughter is NOT blonde. But she could be.
So we're all sitting around the table after dinner, talking about our upcoming trip to the Mediterranean and the extra day we're staying in Venice, in particular. I was excited to report that a co-worker had visited Venice a couple years ago and marveled over the leather goods she found there. Since I have a little (really, very tiny) obsession with bags of all kinds, I can't wait to see what they have to offer. I love handbags the most, followed by tote bags, book bags, knitting bags, overnight bags, cosmetic bags, and finally luggage. I'm starting to get quite a nice little collection of reusable grocery bags together but I don't really want to buy anymore since the whole point is to use the ones I have and not just keep accumulating them. Went a little off topic. Sorry.
Back at the dinner table, my mother-in-law asked the kids if they were going to be able to use any of the French or Latin language skills they've been studying at school. "Of course not," they replied. "We don't really know how to SPEAK the languages. Besides, we'll sound like dorks." I guess that means I'd better buy that Italian phrase book after all. Because I don't care if I sound like a dork, as long as I can find out where the ladies' room is, what floor our hotel room is on, or even, say, how to get to the airport.
After chatting a few more minutes, my daughter looks up, and says, "Wait, Venice? Is that where Venezuala is?" Only she pronounced it venice wayla. My husband and I looked at her, jaws hanging open, when from the kitchen we heard, "OMG, I can't believe I just heard that. Wait until I tell Mr. Levesque." That's my son, snitch to the end. My daughter started giggling, then asked again, "Well, is it?"
I couldn't make this stuff up.