Tonight, I took Dominic to a mexican food restaurant, because I needed caffein to get rid of a headache I had been attempting to dislodge all day. There, I made a fatal flaw, a mistake I've been known to make before. I said, "Gracias" after the waiter seated us.
Now, if you've never spoken Spanish to waiter at a mexican food restaurant before, you may not recognize my mistake. As soon as the word was out of my mouth, I wanted to reach out and drag it back in. I knew the torrent of Spanish that was getting ready to ensue. And I was right.
I can only assume the waiter asked for our drink order, since he then repeated the question in English. He then asked if I speak Spanish. I answered truthfully enough, "Un poco." Perhaps, I should have responded more definitely, "Un muy poco solamente!" Alas, I am positive this would not have made a difference.
We spent the rest of our meal speaking in Spanish. I ordered in Spanish. I responded to his questions, asked in Spanish, in Spanish, because, really, my poco Spanish does cover ordering mexican food. After all, the majority of my Spanish was learned from an old Puerto Rican woman on board the ship I was stationed on who found out I spoke limited Spanish and subsequently refused to speak English to me in order to 'help' me with my Spanish. Really, I loved her. She was like an abuela to me. I just wish I could have understood more of what she said to me! Anyway, she was a food server aboard our ship, hence my familiarity with food related Spanish.
This all brought about some discussions with Dominic about my history of speaking Spanish. He wanted to know when I started speaking Spanish, what my first word was.
When I was a little girl, my aunt, 10 years older than me, was taking Spanish in high school. I think I was 4 or 5. She taught me how to say good night in Spanish. But... I got it a little wrong. That night, when I went to bed, I told my Papa, "Buenos nachos!" To which he replied, "And good tacos to you!"
Here's wishing you a buenos noches, and good tacos for everyone.