Last week we learned that our shipment has yet to leave Japan. As in, all of our earthly belongings are still in a container, sweltering and possibly moldering on the other side of the equator. Which is annoying insofar that my outfit options are as limited as my child's entertainment resources. I mean, there is only so much you can fit into two suitcases. And we're exhausting our options.
Notwithstanding, the most irritating aspect of this little shipping quandary is we are still living in the hotel room and we have no cooking utensils. Or dishes. Or pots. Or any implements with which to prepare food. So, we eat out. For every meal.
Like, all of them.
This arrangement has lead to my child developing a very unorthodox understanding of normative, middle-class Western foodways.
Example One: the utterance "sign the bill" is now commonplace in her lexicon, meaning let's leave. Usage: sitting at the table, annoyed that everything is taking so long, "SIGN A BULL, MAMA!" Also employed when I'm taking too long to leave our hotel room. SIGN A BULL, MAMA!!!
Example Two: When seated at a table in the restaurant, my child shouted out at the top of her lungs, STELLA!!! HOW ARE YOU, STELLA??!?! Because that's what she hears from just about every hotel employee three times per day. To say that people here love kids is an understatement. Everyone wants a piece of this preciousness, a pinch of her cheap, a kiss bye. And so, obviously, she walks the halls, does her rounds, waving like a princess. Hullo!!!
Example Three: While playing house, my child was heard to utter the following: "Ding dong! Doorbell! Dinner's Ready!"
Okay. So. Entirely too much room service is being had and my kid things that dinner comes from a man in pushing a cart and that ice cream is an acceptable breakfast food and omg I'm ruined.
Also, she's just started calling me Mam. Oh geeze.