A few months ago, Chris invested in level 2 of the Rosetta Stone Spanish computer program.  Not because I was a lousy tutor.  But because his Virgo-brain required a more organized and disciplined approach to learning, and a few exchanges of Spanish terms and phrases between us wouldn't have gotten us very far in the process.  (See also: hot fun but not a damn thing done.)  He possessed a very nice, announcer-sounding, natural Spanish accent, I knew, as well as the necessary excitement and determination to achieve his goal.  So learning a new language wouldn't have been a chore for him.  And it would add a helpful skill to his already fine list of professional abilities.  

Chris, however, preferred to aim at the ability to understand whatever the hell my family was talking about over dinner.  Even if my family conversed in English a good 80% of the time, even if I'd tried to translate conversation topics as quickly as humanly possible for him when they didn't, my husband felt that he'd missed out on all the punchlines.

"Wait.  What did they say?" he'd ask.

"Oy.  You don't wanna know..." I'd respond with a shake of my head. 

But he really did.  And my family was (is) quite a disturbing bunch, too, when tucked into a room for a long period of time.  Namely, a dining room.  Still, Chris insisted on being able to fully understand their many simultaneous conversations regardless of the speed with which they were shot across a dining table.  And I had to make him realize that sometimes I'd have to duck from some of the bullets that were shot forth!

Anyhow, listening in on his lessons, now, which primarily consist of matching games and repetition, make me proud.  They also happen to be a good time.  Because not only is Chris doing amazingly well with the program... but he also occasionally and involuntarily makes me laugh.

As a fine example, this afternoon he was "asked" to repeat a few food-and-beverage-related phrases.  And every so often when I'd walk by his comfortable, language-learning zone on the couch, headphones and mic in tow, I'd hear:

"Un cafe, por favor" (Coffee, please).  My favorite request.

"Si, me gustaria un chocolate"  (Yes, I would like a chocolate).  A favorite response of my own.

But perhaps the funniest part of his session would include the repetition of available juice-flavors.

"Manzana o naranja?" (Apple or orange), I'd heard Chris repeat back to the computer.

Rosetta Stone hadn't seemed pleased, however, with a response I'd found so perfectly pronounced.  So Chris said it again.

"Manzana o naranja?"

I popped the microwave door open while he battled it out with Rosetta Stone to reheat a cooled-off, half-cup of coffee.  But I practically dropped my mug onto the floor with what came out of Chris' solar plexus next.

"MANZANA O NARANJA?!!"

Apparently, Rosetta stone had difficulty hearing him.

Heh.