(from the back seat of the car)
Hank: Mana (sister)?
Molly: Mano (brother)?
Hank: Are you my baby?
Hank: Then who’s baby are you?
Molly: Um… mama’s baby.
Me: (fist pump, whisper scream) Yes!
Molly: Quero água (I want water).
Pai: (driving) Do we even have…
Me: (inspecting the picnic basket) Moo-Moo, I don’t have water. I have juice.
Molly: Juice, please.
Hank: That was so polite, mana (sister).
Molly: Juice please, agora (now)!
Pai: (officially micromanaging) And there is no sippy-cup is there?
Me: (bicker-flirting) I didn’t get the motherhood preparedness badge in girl scouts, okay?
Pai: You were a girl scout and that is a real thing?
Me: I was a brownie for like 4 weeks until my contrariness caused the other mothers to advise my mom that maybe girl scouts wasn’t for me.
Pai: You couldn’t even be a scout?
Me: AMERICAN girl scout. I am sure I would have excelled at European Scouts where the girls and boys are equal, but I wasn’t into selling cookies and knotting macramé.
Pai: (mocked shock, completely facetious) Don’t you write a parenting blog? Isn’t being perfect, like, your job?
Me: (soooooo much side eye)
Hank: Say please, be kind.
Molly: Juice, please, sim (yes).
Me: I have a cup and I have a straw which means I will need your help, Hank.
Hank: That is perfectly fine! I will make sure she doesn’t get a juice bath. Just don’t hit any big bumps.
Pai: Portuguese highways don’t have bumps or traffic and for this our country was practically bankrupt. If you can help, Hank, then we will be home in 15 minutes without a birra (tantrum).
Me: (handing back the unsecured drinking vessel to the nine year old to be administered to the two year old completely unsupervised)
Pai: (turns up the radio, whispers sarcastically, escalating the mock argument) Do you have a change of clothes for her? (trying to keep a strait face)
Me: (feigning defensiveness) If I didn’t pack a gawd-damn-sippy-cup do you think I would have planned ahead and packed a spare outfit for the toddler? You’re lucky there were diapers and wipes today.
Me: What happened to the 15 minutes and we’re home attitude? Next time you make the lunch and pack the picnic basket then I’ll better pack the diaper bag instead of doing (whisper scream, shaking a fist at him) ALL THE THINGS, BRO.
Pai: (practically hysterical) Did you just call me bro?
Me: (giggling) You’re gonna drive me to drink. What makes you think I am the prepper in this family? Just because I carried those kids for 9 months each in my broken down trash heap of a body doesn’t mean I’m the one that has to carry their gear.
Pai: (positively purple with laughter)
Me: She’s lucky I didn’t ask Hank to have her drink strait from the bottle. Where’s the “she can scream for 15 minutes covered in orange juice” option, huh? You’ve completely forgotten what parenting toddler Hank was like. He screamed for all of 2009. Every single day all day. Where were you?
Me: (switching to my best three stooges impression) A wise wise guy, eh? Why I oughta!
Molly: All done!
Hank: Here is the cup, mama.
Me: Well done! Thank you, Hank. (rhetorically to Hank, flirtatiously barbed towards Pai) Jeeze, how did you get to be such a kind and capable young man?
Hank: I don’t know. You’re my parents and you both taught me to be my best me so I guess I learned it from you because you’re such good parents.
Me: (heart melted into a puddle)
Me: Thank you so much, buddy!
Pai: That was so kind, thank you.
Hank: I’m your best filho (son) and you’re my best pais (parents). I don’t know how good I’d be in another family, but I am so lucky I don’t have to think about that because you’re my parents.
Pai: Obrigado, filho (thank you, son).
Molly: More juice! MAMA! Juuuuuiiiiccceeeee.
Hank: Amália Sofia?
Molly: Please. PLEASE!