On Sunday, my parents finally met A.'s mom and just like
the first time I brought A. to meet them, I was so nervous that the language barrier would create too much awkwardness. While there was a lot of English-Spanish translating, it was really nice and they seemed to hit it off. We met for brunch at
Café du Soleil in the Upper West Side and sat outside. The weather, cloudy and chilly when we first arrived, soon gave way to warm sunshine by the time we started digging into our meals. As much as I enjoyed my blueberry pancakes, my brother David's "Le French Toast"
(above) was pretty damn tasty.
Have you ever introduced your parents to a partner who spoke a different language than they do? I'm glad they manage along fine, but I can't lie. Sometimes I dream of how much easier it'd be if everyone just spoke the same language. Less work for me and much less anxiety worrying over how they will communicate, if everyone understands what's being said, and who's nodding their head like they haven't a clue what's going on. I'm sure so many anecdotes were lost in translation that afternoon, but at least smiles and laughter are the same in both languages. The rest can sort itself out.
