The quick brown fox jumped over the good, but lazy Parker family.
if that’s not a recipe for a laugh-track worth sit-com, i’m not sure what is.
about six weeks ago, our nanny started saying how much sparklet loves running around “the pixa” — “the pesca” we ask?
“no, the pixa” she she replies. “pixa! pixa!”
“oh, of course — the ‘pixa!'” we finally replied, without an ounce of comprehension. “boy, does she love that!”
over the next six weeks, we proceeded to ask every native Spanish speaker we’ve ever known what “pixa” meant en Español.
not a clue.
i Google translated about a dozen different spellings — pisca, pixa, pitsa, pesca, pixza.
we finally decided that she meant either “pesca” which is Spanish for “fishing” or PISCA which is the Paranormal Investigation Society of Central Alabama.
we were pretty confused about where they could possibly go fishing in northwest D.C., much less the intricacies of travel to Central Alabama, so we gave up and called it a day.
hey, have you guys been over to the pizza garden yet? it’s a giant pizza that the kids can climb all over. maria says that they really love it.
pizza. pixa. pizza = pixa.
(cue laugh track.)