Teeth, motorcycles, and Spanish - random updates from Tbilisi

So much is happening, and since I have a few moments to myself, I thought I would hit the highlights of the past week.

We'll start with Kyra. By Monday she had her first tooth - the lower right. By Friday she had her second tooth - the lower left. As soon as she allows me to get a good photo of them, I will post it. She's much happier now that the teeth are in, she's sleeping better at night, napping better during the day and is generally less fussy. Ah, if only it will last.

Moving on, let's talk about David's motorcycle. David is off to Armenia for two weeks of work and decided that while he was gone, he would have his motorcycle painted. A friend of his had a bike painted by this guy a few weeks ago and he did a great job (and a cheap job compared to US prices). We dropped it off at the shop on Saturday and then took the kids out to lunch. About an hour and a half later we are outside the restaurant, getting the kids strapped in their carseats when David exclaims "well, there goes my motorcycle" and sure enough, his motorcycle goes flying past us with two guys on it, one of them is the painter. We get the kids settled, hop in the car, and follow in the direction the bike went but can't find them. David shrugs philosophically, you see, he has a phrase for stuff like this happening in Georgia. Whenever anyone complains about traffic, food, housing - pretty much anything at all - David puts his left hand up and makes a little circle and says "you used to live here" and then he puts his right hand up and stretches it as far as he can from the left makes another little circle and says "and now you live here". In other words, just go with the flow.

So, we decide to let it be and we head out to the park with the kids. After about an hour of running around the park with "super hero" Blaine, we load up and head home. On the drive home, believe it or not, we see David's motorcycle go flying past us again. I tell David to turn the car around and follow him, so he does. Turns out the guy was headed back to the paint shop. We pull in about 2 minutes behind, the guy is already off the bike, with his helmet in his hand. He sees us and immediately adopts the universally understood "OH SHIT" face. He speaks very little English, David doesn't speak nearly enough Russian to convey his unhappiness with the guy joyriding on his bike, so David calls a third party to interpret. All is resolved and we drive away. But David and I took bets on whether or not I will see his bike around town over the next two weeks.

And finally Blaine. Sweet, funny, adorable Blaine. I thought Kyra getting teeth would have been the highlight of my week vis-a-vis the kids, but Blaine trumped her. Friday was his last day of Spanish-immersion summer camp. For the past month he has spent all day during the week speaking, thinking and learning Spanish. But, as David and I found out on Friday, not everything translates.

Blaine came home from school on Friday with all of the papers, art projects and miscellaneous crafts he had done during the past month. He and I were looking through them and he was describing them to me. One particular picture he made showed a man, a woman and a child. I asked him who the people were - the conversation went as follows:

Me: Blaine, who are these people?
Blaine (pointing to the woman): That's Mami
Me: And the man?
Blaine: That's Papi
Me: And the little boy?
Blaine: That's Joe
Me: Joe?
Blaine: Yes, Joe

David and I looked at each other - we had expected him to say either "That's Blaine" or his other favorite "That's super hero Blaine". Neither of us had a clue who Joe was. I decided to ask again:

Me: Who is that little boy?
Blaine: I told you, is Joe!

And then my college Spanish kicked in and the light bulb went on.

Is Joe = Es Yo
Es Yo = That's Me!

That's us. Mami, Papi and Joe. And the drooly toothy girl named Kyra.