Happy Halloween


Hank: Tomorrow is Halloween!

Me: Yes it is!  Do you think anyone at your school will dress up?

Hank: Yes.  Everyone.

Me: What?

Hank: (mouth full) Um Hum (nodding).

Me: But you didn’t have Halloween last year.

Pai: Yes, but last year Hank was in Jardim (kindergarten).

Hank: This year everyone is dressing up like Carnival.

Pai: And how long did you know you were supposed to dress up for Halloween?

Hank: (shrug, chewing)

Me: I knew this day would come. Today is the day where you tell me you need to be a tomato by tomorrow in a school play I have never even heard of and I am already in bed with my curlers and cold cream mask.

Pai: What are you talking about?

Me: Erma Bombeck?  It’s an American thing.  Regardless, thanks to the amazingness of your Tia Paula we are totally prepared in the event of this emergency. Hold on…

Hank: I can just be a Vampiro (vampire) like everyone else.

Me: Or you can call ground control and be all like, “Hey, this is Major Tom!” (holding awesome orange Nasa jumpsuit)

Pai: Ooooh!  Cool.

Hank: Oh! Can we make me a helmet?

Me: Here I save the day and we are right back to the tomato again.

Pai: I will check if the drogaria (hardware store) downstairs is still open.


Chocolate Chip Cookies


Hank: Mama, I was wishing just now for chocolate chip cookies.

Me: (thinking)

Hank: Mama?

Me: Yes, we can do that. I have all the ingredients: flour, sugar: brown and white, eggs, butter, baking soda, vanilla, chocolate and a hammer.

Hank: A hammer? Um martelo?

Me: (walking to the kitchen) Exactly.

Hank: Why do we need a hammer to make cookies? Are you being silly?

Me: In America there is a very smart man named Hersey and he started selling these little drips of chocolate called “chips.” They are sold in the supermarcado (supermarket).  We don’t have Hersey’s chocolate in Portugal, but we have some of the best chocolate in the world so we have to make our own chips. (brandishing a hammer)

Hank: Do I get to make the chips?

Me: (wrapping a dark chocolate bar in a tea towel) Youbetcha.

Hank: I love cooking.

Me: Me, too.



Pai: Yum.

Me: (chewing)

Hank: (slow whine equal to a tortured deflating balloon)

Me: What’s wrong Hank?

Hank: I don’t like it.

Pai: I know for a fact you like curil (curry).

Me: Quick!  GET ME THE PHONE! We must call the police.

Pai: What is it?

Me: Isn’t it obvious?  Someone has stolen Hank’s tongue.

Hank: No!

Me: Only explanation.  Someone must have snuck into the house, dead of night, opened your mouth, cut out your tongue and replaced it with a tongue that does not like curil (curry).


Me: Totally.  Your taste is in your tongue.  Ladrões (thieves), only explanation.  WHERE IS THE PHONE?  (searching under couch cushions) Must – call – the – police!

Alfredo:  Tens que comer mais qualquer coisinha Henrique ou a tua mãe chama a polícia. (You better take some more bites Hank or your mama is going to call the police.)

Me: Yup, there must be an investigation.  We must recover your tongue. Goblins probably.

Pai: Not Goblins…

Hank: (mouth full) Aliens!

Me: Possibly. (searching through the bookshelf) WHERE IS THE PHONE?

Pai: We should make a missing poster.

Hank: (mouth full) Like for cats and dogs?

Me: I am on it.  Don’t worry Hank. We will get the goblins or ladrões (thieves) or aliens or black market tongue traffickers who stole your curry loving tongue.

Hank: murmur, mumble (mouthful)

Me: Excuse me?  I couldn’t understand you.  Your mouth is full.

Hank: (chewing)

Pai: Look what happened while you were searching for the phone. (Hank’s plate half finished)

Hank: I remember that curil (curry) is mais o menos (ok). But you can still make the signs and we can still hang it on the door just in case someone really did snitch my tongue and the new one only likes curil (curry) a little bit.