The first time my grandparents crossed the Caribbean to come live with us for a couple of years, I didn't understand them. Spanish for them, English for me.
One particularly frustrating day, I stormed into my mom's room...
"You know abuela and abuelo? They are so old and they don't even know English! You need to send them back!"
My mom always says the right thing: "Well, look at how old you are (I was 3) and you don't know Spanish!"
Oh. My bad.
I don't think the whole not understanding Spanish thing lasted very long.
(P.S. This is a day I have literally forgotten, but I have the joy of having my mom recount it at least a couple times a year ;))
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