"Do you speak English?" my dad asked the waiter, a young brown-haired German with a short, pocketed, black apron tied around his hips. He held a writing pad in one hand and a pencil in the other. He shook his head as he looked around the table full of apparent Americans.
"I got it, dad," I said and turned to the waiter. "Zwei minuten bitte, ja?"
The waiter smiled at me and nodded, saying the German equivalent of "take your time," and hurried away to wait another table. I continued to flip through my worn German-English dictionary under the table, trying to interpret the menu.
The first restaurant we'd tried to go to, where your food is sent down whirling slides to your table from an upstairs table, had been closed for renovations or something, and our friendly cab driver had guided us here, to a basement restaurant in a building probably older than the US. Bob was trying to decide on a beer to try and I was trying to order for the table...
"STOP IT! Mom! Paige isn't helping me clean up!" Charlotte's voice shouts from the dining room.
"Yes, I AM!" Paige yells back.
My memory is broken as I sit back on the couch between the two curled-up dogs, both sleeping heavily with their backs to me. Oh, to be a sleeping dog in a houseful of kids. I hear a small furniture door slam, probably from the cabinets holding all the art supplies, and Charlotte bounds into the room ahead of Paige, half skipping. I know Charlotte knows how to walk, but I rarely see it. Skipping, hopping, running, leaping- but rarely walking.
Charlotte darts in front of Paige and quickly sidles in with Riker, wedging herself under his resting head.
"Hey!" Paige cries. I catch her eye, trying to diffuse the bazillionth fight of the day before it can start. I pat an unused area next to me. "Come sit by Orion, Paigey." Paige climbs up and lays against Orion's belly, petting his neck as he continues to sigh and snore.
I start reading the book, also about dogs, as Charlotte wraps herself around Riker's head, her legs bent under his chin and her arm draped over his eyes. He sighs loudly and then continues snoring. I am jealous of two dogs. I wish I got that much sleep.
I regard my children and dogs. They're quiet for now. I miss traveling with Bob. I miss traveling with adults. It's so easy with adults.
I'll continue my memory dream later, if it's not too sad, and get back to reading the book about dogs.
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