After meeting my Austrian exchange student at the subway stop, he informs me he and his best friend want to go to a store before going to the Farewell Dinner.
"We'll walk home."
"Where's the store?"
"[Rhymes with stove] Street."
"Do you mean [rhymes with love] Street?"
If English is your second language, sometimes you have trouble with street names when there's no context. So I offer to drive them to the store then to my house to hang out before the dinner. As my car pulls around the curve I ask them if they're sure there's a store back here.
"Ja, there it is," the friend points to an army supply store.
For the size of the store, they sure are in there a long time. But they bring out their purchases and we head home. At some point, my house became inhabited by four American teenage girls. When I drive up with three Austrian teenage boys, I wonder if I should read them the Riot Act. But they settle into the family room in front of the TV.
I putter around the kitchen gathering the snack foods for the dinner. The music is loud coming from the library. The TV blares on the other side of the kitchen from the family room. Concern slips out of my mind until I realize that the TV and the stereo are both on but not a single person is to be found downstairs.
Upstairs I go with the pretense of getting ready for the dinner. One bedroom with an open door has three American girls and one Austrian boy. I inquire where my other daughter is. "In her room," is the answer. Two deep voices are heard from behind the second closed door. About that time she peeps out of her room to see what's going on. Aha! She not in there with them.
Having two teenager daughters is a full-time job. Having four teenage girls and three teenage boys under the same roof is daunting. Countdown to Dinner time has begun!
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