It's been a while since I've posted on the minutiae of life chez Cohen. Here follows a corrective, because I know you like stories with cute kids. And you will learn from reading that the local pizza delivery man is a CIA spy.
"Vous êtes francophone?"
I stood in blank silence for a moment before answering "Pas de tout" and handing the man his money. "And I don't think I've ever had someone delivering pizza interrogate me in French before."
"When I asked your son to give me haut cinq, he knew what to do, and said you taught him how to say five in French."
It's true, my French is so good that I can count to five. I also know how to recite the ABCs. Weirdly, I can also tell you what sounds many animals make when they speak en français, and that to a baby you say "coo-coo" rather than "goo goo ga ga." But I didn't expect to have a conversation about such things as the pizza arrived. Our deliveryman, it turns out, included among his former careers missionary in Africa, poet, and CIA language expert. He claimed to be fluent in five tongues. I can vouch for the fact that he spoke French with no accent. His Swahili and Russian seemed pretty good too, but what do I know?
He could also mimic any Loony Tunes character Kid #1 could suggest, leading to an extra large tip and very cold pizza.
A perfect evening: to celebrate Father's Day, we went to a playground in Glover Park and let the kids go wild on the swings and spinning devices. We then strolled to the local Whole Foods, which has one of those hot and cold food bars where the gourmet creations are sold by the pound. Kid #2 loaded her plate with three cucumbers; a hard boiled egg; and "truffled macaroni and cheese" -- only the best for her. Kid #1 chose sushi and minestrone soup, a cosmopolitan meal if ever there was one. We watched two DC high school teams playing baseball on the field nearby, then had dessert at a shop that makes their own ice cream, hot fudge, and whipped cream. Could life be better than this?
At the end, Kid #1 confided that he'd be happy when Father's Day was over and we could go back to Kids Days.
And a historical note, to make this all medieval: Glover Park is a neighborhood in northwest DC where the group of medievalists known as "Front 190" had their second meeting, during a December MLA. I checked out the Thai restaurant where it happened; no plaque yet. I remember I got in a lot of trouble with Michael Uebel at that dinner for chatting with the medievalist next to me when we were supposed to be setting forth our plan for domination of the discipline, if not the world.