La Bimba has taken to putting the letter T at the end of different words, so now we have babbot (sounds like bah-boat), mammit (mah-meat), baby-t (bay-beet), ballt. This must be an already documented toddler linguistic phenomenon.
La Bimba has also become a terrible two and she's only just shy of her 1.5 birthday. She says NO constantly, sometimes with force, sometimes accompanied by crying and plopping down on her butt and putting her forehead on the floor, sometimes quietly to herself with a quasi imperceptible shake of the head.
She has some advanced dance moves including arabesque and attitude, marching with her legs wide apart, spinning, a version of flamenco stomping and hand clapping. She also sings her ABCs like this, "c c c c c c c."
Okay, back to me. Yesterday, The Husband, La Bimba, two friends, and I were having lunch in a little trattoria in the Vomero (four primi, four secondi, wine, water, salad, fried algae, that's right, fried algae, bread, two potato crochettes, 40 euro), when a woman with jet black hair blow dried straight to the texture of straw, lots of eyeliner and frosted pink lipstick came up to us. The Husband said to her, "Ti presento mia moglie." She said, "Piacere. Cristina" took my extended hand and CRUSHED IT. I mean, I have experienced more than my fair share of firm handshakes, but this one actual made me yelp. I YELPED and sort of keeled over (good thing I was sitting down), and my dining companions all said in unison, "Ma che รจ successo? Ti sei spaventata?" No, I wasn't afraid, I was wounded. Cristina said, "Scusami" and shrugged her shoulders. I just sat there shaking out my contorted fingers.
One of our dining companions, M., slept over at our house the night before. In the middle of the night, I heard some shuffling and some banging around, and suddenly M. was standing at the foot of our bed. I said, "M.! What are you doing?" M. answered, "Scusami, non mi trovo bene. Mi serve solo questo cuscino" (Excuse me, I'm not comfortable. I just need this pillow). Then he pulled our duvet off of me and The Husband and dragged it into the living room. There we were, lying clothed but without our cover! Then we heard more doors slamming and general mayhem, so The Husband went out and settled M. down. The next day M. remembered nothing.
I had a very good friend from Junior High who was a sleepwalker-talker. She would sit up in the middle of the night and talk to imaginary people, usually in a very urgent way. Once I found her sitting up with her eyes closed saying, "We have to get out of here! We can do it! Come on!" When I asked her who she was talking to she said, "Her." When I pressed on, asking, "Who?" She said, "Fuck you" and lay back down. Another time she jumped up and started screaming at me that the asteroids were coming and how could I just lie there and do nothing. When I said, "You're sleeping. Go back to sleep," she said, "Fuck you."
9 comments:
LMAO!!!!! My Neapolitan hubbie is a sleeptalker and I thought I was the only one to have to experience something like this. A few nights ago, my husband, Carmine, sat up straight in bed with two starled eyes and said that 'they' were trying to kill him with meat cleavers (he is a cook). I told him he was sleeping, too, and to go back to bed and he said 'vaffanculo'. I hope he was referring to the 'murderers'. Anyhow, he had no recollection of this, either.
That is hilarious! Thank you for sharing. I'm glad you no longer feel alone.
Sleep talkers, and especially sleep walkers scare me.
What's the name of trattoria in Vomero if you don't mind me asking? The only one that cheap I can think of is a very small place on Via Kerbarker.
Antica Cucina Napoletana somewhere in the Arenella. If I find out the street address I'll post it.
Aside of the crushing of your hand, I'm really impressed to hear of the woman with the firm handshake. I really hate being given a limp hand, and it happens to me all the time here.
Fried Algae--I miss that SO MUCH!!! My husband will call me up from work and ask me what kind of fish would I like him to bring home for dinner... the answer is always the same... lumache and vongole verace...we live in SoCal now... there are NO bivalves worth eating here. What a sin.
As for the Neapolitana and her grip... that is such a classic power play. I'm sure you looked lovely as you sat there w. your marito and the bimba... she was jealous.
Your dad said the blog would be interesting and he was right on the money.
Just discovered your blog. Your Bimba sounds like my little Bambina at that age. Would be interested in knowing whether she is saying more words in Italian or English. The Bambina started out in French (we were living in Paris at the time) then moved to 50/50 French English and now that we are in Rome, is dominant in English but speaks French as a second language and Italian with other children.
that's so funny about the sleepwalking, and him stealing your cover! i know that i've sleepwalked before, but normally i just talk in my sleep. my husband tells me that i must be talking in english, because he can't understand a word of it :).
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