Remember those morning exercises from George Orwell’s 1984? Those bastions of communism? My father in law does them every morning on my back deck. And my mother in law tries to teach them to Bean. I’m sure they’re really very healthy, I just can’t get over the Orwellian imagery.
I listened as hubbs taught his mom how to make microwave popcorn. It never seemed so complicated before. And she expressed awe in the technology.
My father-in-law seriously talking about how we should all change our religion and language, because Hebrews are all wise and rich.
My mother-in-law being paranoid about the neighbor’s 12-year-old son – “What’s he doing outside?!?” (as he walks home after the school bus drops him off)
My kids asking me to pretend to be their grandmother, with a continuous stream of “Be careful! Be careful! Slow down! Slow down!” coming out of her mouth (in another language, of course).
Answering the phone in my home and having to dig rusty Russian out of the recesses of my brain.
Trying to explain the importance of keeping a well-kept lawn in American suburbs, as well as the neighborhood deed restrictions, to someone whose concept of land involves pure farmland space.
Listening to my father-in-law, a neurologist telling me that Little Man’s medication dosage should be adjusted based on the fullness of the moon.
Having to convince the grandparents that the sand and water table on the back deck really isn’t a death trap – in spite of the fact that sand could actually get in someone’s eyes.