try out my Italian words on him. First I said,
“Fantastico!”
and
“Grazie!”
He smiled and said,
“Prego”
(Pray Go), which means “You're welcome.” Then he said,
“Parli italiano?”
(Par Lee Ee Tal Ya No), which means “Do you speak Italian?”
So I said,
“Un po,’”
(Oon Poe), which means “A little.”
Then he said,
“Sei americana?”
Well, that sounded like “Say ‘Americana,’” so I said, “Americana.”
He laughed and pointed to me and said,
“Americana?”
I smiled and said,
“Si”
(See) and added, “New York.”
Then I copied his question and asked,
“Sei italiano?”
Well, duh duh duh, obviously he was Italian, but I couldn't think of anything else I knew how to say!
He said,
“Sono romano,”
which I figured meant he was from Rome. Then he stuck out his hand and said, “Giorgio,” so I stuck out mine and said, “Melanie,” and we shook hands. I was sort of smiling and blushing, and then he said,
“Ciao”
to both Matt and me.
I like how
ciao
means both hi and bye. I hope I'll get to say hi and bye to Giorgio again.
When I closed the door, Matt was still hugging Dog-Dog, so I started hugging Hedgehog.
But here's the weird thing. There was something about Giorgio that seemed really familiar, but I couldn't figure out what. Then suddenly it dawned on me.
Giorgio was tall and brown-eyed with stick-uppy hair—like Norbert!
Could that mean I think Norbert is cute?
But you know what? I will say that as far as dorks go, Norbert is a decent dork. And I don't really
hate
him. After all, he did help me in the cafeteria with my runaway potato. And so what if his shirts are a little bright? It takes time to figure out what clothes people consider normal. As for his accent, the plastic surgeon had an accent in English, and I must have an accent in Italian, and if you say, “Tennis shoes ten issues tennis shoes ten issues,” I guess they really do sound about the same. (I've been thinking about pronunciation ever since we got here. It's complicated! Pizza is an Italian word we say in English, but how do we say it?
“Pete Sa” or “Pete's Za”? There's not always only one right way.)
While I'm writing about Norbert, of all people, I might as well add that although I don't think picking your nose is a wonderful hobby, it's not like I've never ever ever ever done it. I just would never do it in school. And maybe Norbert never did either. Cecily doesn't know
everything
.
When she had a Valentine's Day party, her mom made her invite the whole class, and Cecily sent Norbert's invitation a week after everyone else's. When she told me, I laughed. But now I think that just because he's a little geeky doesn't mean that people should be mean to him. I know Cecily is popular and Norbert isn't, but sometimes people act as if she can do no wrong and he can do no right.
I kind of feel bad for Norbert, and I bet deep down a few other kids do too.
Well, anyway, guess what?
Today is Mom and Dad's anniversary. I want to do something nice for them. But I don't have any money to buy a present, or any clay or feathers or beads to make one.
If I were home, I'd bake a cake.
Mom and Dad are taking an extra long time getting dressed, so I gave Matt one of my postcards of the World's Biggest Church and put Lily's address on it. It's easy to remember her address—it's practically the same as ours because we live in the same apartment building.
Since Matt can't really write, he drew a picture of the Leaning Tower of Pisa with him and DogDog waving under it. Matt was concentrating hard. I could tell because his tongue was poking out of his mouth. The card came out well, though.
Just call me the World's Best Sister. W.B.S.?
I was thinking about working on my poem, but Dad says we have to do some “exploring.”
When my family isn't worrying me, they're hurrying me!
Best wishes,
same day
Lullaby, Dreamer, Romie, Purr Purr, Sunshine, Blacky, and Collie are the names Matt and I gave to
“Fantastico!”
and
“Grazie!”
He smiled and said,
“Prego”
(Pray Go), which means “You're welcome.” Then he said,
“Parli italiano?”
(Par Lee Ee Tal Ya No), which means “Do you speak Italian?”
So I said,
“Un po,’”
(Oon Poe), which means “A little.”
Then he said,
“Sei americana?”
Well, that sounded like “Say ‘Americana,’” so I said, “Americana.”
He laughed and pointed to me and said,
“Americana?”
I smiled and said,
“Si”
(See) and added, “New York.”
Then I copied his question and asked,
“Sei italiano?”
Well, duh duh duh, obviously he was Italian, but I couldn't think of anything else I knew how to say!
He said,
“Sono romano,”
which I figured meant he was from Rome. Then he stuck out his hand and said, “Giorgio,” so I stuck out mine and said, “Melanie,” and we shook hands. I was sort of smiling and blushing, and then he said,
“Ciao”
to both Matt and me.
I like how
ciao
means both hi and bye. I hope I'll get to say hi and bye to Giorgio again.
When I closed the door, Matt was still hugging Dog-Dog, so I started hugging Hedgehog.
But here's the weird thing. There was something about Giorgio that seemed really familiar, but I couldn't figure out what. Then suddenly it dawned on me.
Giorgio was tall and brown-eyed with stick-uppy hair—like Norbert!
Could that mean I think Norbert is cute?
But you know what? I will say that as far as dorks go, Norbert is a decent dork. And I don't really
hate
him. After all, he did help me in the cafeteria with my runaway potato. And so what if his shirts are a little bright? It takes time to figure out what clothes people consider normal. As for his accent, the plastic surgeon had an accent in English, and I must have an accent in Italian, and if you say, “Tennis shoes ten issues tennis shoes ten issues,” I guess they really do sound about the same. (I've been thinking about pronunciation ever since we got here. It's complicated! Pizza is an Italian word we say in English, but how do we say it?
“Pete Sa” or “Pete's Za”? There's not always only one right way.)
While I'm writing about Norbert, of all people, I might as well add that although I don't think picking your nose is a wonderful hobby, it's not like I've never ever ever ever done it. I just would never do it in school. And maybe Norbert never did either. Cecily doesn't know
everything
.
When she had a Valentine's Day party, her mom made her invite the whole class, and Cecily sent Norbert's invitation a week after everyone else's. When she told me, I laughed. But now I think that just because he's a little geeky doesn't mean that people should be mean to him. I know Cecily is popular and Norbert isn't, but sometimes people act as if she can do no wrong and he can do no right.
I kind of feel bad for Norbert, and I bet deep down a few other kids do too.
Well, anyway, guess what?
Today is Mom and Dad's anniversary. I want to do something nice for them. But I don't have any money to buy a present, or any clay or feathers or beads to make one.
If I were home, I'd bake a cake.
Mom and Dad are taking an extra long time getting dressed, so I gave Matt one of my postcards of the World's Biggest Church and put Lily's address on it. It's easy to remember her address—it's practically the same as ours because we live in the same apartment building.
Since Matt can't really write, he drew a picture of the Leaning Tower of Pisa with him and DogDog waving under it. Matt was concentrating hard. I could tell because his tongue was poking out of his mouth. The card came out well, though.
Just call me the World's Best Sister. W.B.S.?
I was thinking about working on my poem, but Dad says we have to do some “exploring.”
When my family isn't worrying me, they're hurrying me!
Best wishes,
same day
Lullaby, Dreamer, Romie, Purr Purr, Sunshine, Blacky, and Collie are the names Matt and I gave to
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