Who Takes Their Kids to a Cannibal?

For a few years in my childhood, we lived next door to a family of five.  The mother was Indonesian, the father was American, the three kids were a 50-50 mix of the two.  The children, whom I immediately befriended the day they moved in, told me that their mother learned English by watching Sesame Street.  

This made for some interesting conversations.

Most of the time, the kids were around to translate.  But one time, the mother came over to ask my mom a question that she didn’t want her kids to hear. 

It went like this:

Indonesian Mom: You take a kids to cannibal?

My Mom: (looking shocked) What?

IM: You take a kids?  To cannibal?

Mom:  Um, what? 

IM:  Da cannibal.  You kids.  Dis weekend?

Mom:  Andrea, come here.  Tell her, “What?”

Me:  What’s that you said?

IM:  You mom take you a cannibal?  Dis weekend?  Ride-a-ride?

Me:  Where is Janice?  She can tell me what you want.

IM:  No, no.  No Janice.  You ride-a-ride?  You know, cannibal.  (Making large circular motions with her arms).

Me:  Mom, I think she wants you to take us to a cannibal that throws knives.  But no, thanks.

Mom:  (To IM) A knife throwing cannibal?

IM: NO!  CA-NI-BAL.

Mom:  OH!  You mean a cannon ball?  The one on main base?  (We were military, of course.)

IM:  NO!  CA-NI-BAL.  Kids.  Da cannibal.  Ride-a-ride.

Mom:  Oh, no thank you.  (closes the door in exasperation).


Turns out, she was planning to take her kids to the carnival as a surprise, and wanted to know if we’d like to tag along. 

Speaking of which, we took the kids to the traveling carnival this weekend, and Blythe ride-a-ride, for the very first time.  In fact, both kids rode LOTS of rides.  


 Shouldn’t she be smiling?

I much preferred the carnival over a knife-wielding cannibal, I can tell you.