davidisms

I woke up this morning to the sounds of Uncle David moaning his way through his morning routine long before I have grown accustomed to waking up. Based on his groans, he wasn't too keen on being conscious either. As he left the house, it dawned on me that I haven't shared any Davidisms, and that is just a shame.

David is the Czech's only maternal uncle. Born with Down Syndrome, even in middle age, David has the attitude of a rambunctious teenager from the eighties. He loves music. No, that's not right. I'm pretty sure David lives for music. He is music. I've never seen so many stereo systems or been inundated by such knowledge of music before. David will eat just about anything, especially if it has some sort of noodle, but prefers a cheeseburger when the option arises. And he goes to a movie once a week. Religiously. At least until we all moved to Florida together.

And it also needs to be known, David is near incomprehensible in his speech pattern. A southern drawl mixed with Downs and a dash of the wildest imagination this side of the Mississippi. It's often like trying to understand an infant just learning to speak. But harder because he's a grown man who is convinced we all understand him. When we do, we get Davidisms.

Last night, Dad took his roaming reality TV show cast, also known as our household, to dinner in honor of the Great Bavarian Expedition of 2011. The Czech's love a theme, so they tracked down a German restaurant and we all sat down to a far nicer dinner than any of us had anticipated. A small menu selection boasting delectable German entrees which none of us could pronounce.

The waiter comes and systematically goes around the table taking our orders.

"Something spaetzle, please."

"Something schnitzle, please."

"Uhh...cheeseburger."

Our poor attendant looked horrified. There were most emphatically no cheeseburgers on the menu, which he tried to communicate with David.

"Uh, yes it is," David sasses back. "It's right there!" We all look to the place on the menu he is indicating and burst into laughter, sympathetic and full of mirth.

David was pointing at the item "Caviar Beluga."

He got pork chops and was happy as a clam. That is, until he heard about dessert options.

"Apple strudel with fresh whipped cream or vanilla ice cream."

David's head popped up faster than a bullet out of a gun. "Ice cream??!" There was so much intrigue and sheer delight in his voice that once again we laughed. Then he went to ask the in-house pianist who had been playing traditional Bavarian folk tunes all night to play the Christopher Cross song Sailing. But it came out "Uh, play sum Chris Cross, okay?"

If moving to Germany means laughing like that as a family, I say we move more often.

udle