"It's the feast of St. Francis Xavier," I said. "Indian or Chinese for dinner?"
"He didn't make it to China," Elwood said.
"I know that," I told him. "We could have Chinese food in honor of the effort, though."
The boys all voted for Indian, and off we went. We had a lot of trouble understanding our waiter, though. The two youngest boys each asked for a glass of milk when the appetizers were spicy, and it took us several tries to figure out that the waiter was asking if it should be boiled milk or cold milk. When he brought it, we needed several more tries to understand that he was making sure the boys didn't need any sugar for their milk. "Actually," said one of them, "I would like to put sugar in my milk." (No.)
As we were leaving, Stella asked Alex to tell her a story about an armadillo. Alex, who has told her a lot of armadillo stories, was lobbying for a Viking warrior story instead. "What does 'vike' mean?" Stella wanted to know.
"She knows how to briskle," said Elwood, "but she doesn't know how to vike."