The Foreigner

My father is not from here. And although he has now been in the US for longer than he hasn't, he has a quality (and an accent) that is undoubtedly foreign. One of the [many] great things about him is that he has a great sense of humor about himself. He doesn't get offended when people misplace his accent, or mispronounce his name, or talk louder and slower when he's around (scratch that, that actually really annoys him). Because he is foreign, he also claims immunity from saying and doing things that are universally considered politically incorrect. Case in point: When he was in college in Iowa, he had a professor who could not get his name right. It wasn't simply pronouncing it with an H sound, but TOTALLY butchered it, constantly. After the name reached the point of "Joshua" , my dad gave up and told him to just call him Pedro. And he did. And everyone was happy.

For the purposes of this blog he insists on being referred to as Pedro the Foreigner.

7 year olds

Part of my job at Girls Prep is working at their summer camp. Some days this is a challenge since the kids are younger and they seem to have trouble keeping their hands to themselves and they run everywhere until they don't and then it is impossible to get them to go anywhere at all. But sometimes it can be pretty funny. In between rounds of Capture the Flag, I overhear the following exchange involving two boys, one is 7, the other is 8.
Two conversations are happening at the same time. One is about the difference between Hyundai and Honda. Whether they are the same company, or one is a spin off of the other. The other is an inspection of a leg that may or not be bleeding. There is discussion as to whether it's bleeding or a scab. At the end, the younger boy nudges the other and says, “Hey, how do you know so much about cars and scabs?”

Another instructor and I burst out laughing, the 7 year old glared at us, and then ran back to the game.