Part 3: in-laws

Mother-in-law – свекровь/теща

Father-in-law – свекор/тесть

Son-in-law - зять

Daughter-in-law – невестка/сноха

Sister-in-law – невеста/золовка

Brother-in-law – деверь/шурин

Part 4: ways of addressing family members

Mum, Mummy, Mom, Momma, Mommie – мама, мамочка

Dad, Daddy – папа, папочка

Papa [pэ’pa:] – папа' – брит.

Papa [‘papэ] – папа – амер.

Grandpa, granddad – дедуля, дедушка

Grandma, Granny – бабуля, бабушка

Sonny - сыночек

Auntie - тетя

Text:

Some people might think that my mother is my biggest problem. She doesn’t like turtles and she’s always telling me to scrub my hands. That doesn’t mean just run them under the water. Scrub means I'’ supposed to use soap and rub my hands together. Then I've got to rinse and dry them. I ought to know by now. I’ve heard it enough!

But my mother isn’t my biggest problem. Neither is my father. He spends a lot of time watching commercials on TV. That’s because he’s in the advertising business.

My biggest problem is my brother, Farley Drexel Hatcher. He’s two-and-a-half years old. Everybody calls him Fudge. I feel sorry for him if he’s going to grow up with a name like Fudge, but I don’t say a word. It’s none of my business.

Fudge is always in my way. He messes up everything he sees. And when he gets mad he throws himself on the floor and he screams. And he kicks. And he bangs his fists. The only time I really like him is when he is sleeping. He sucks four fingers on his left hand and makes a slurping noise.

I think how great it would be if we could trade in Fudge for a nice cocker spaniel. That would serve all my problems. I’d walk him and feed him and play with him. He could even sleep on the edge of my bed at night. But of course that is wishful thinking. My brother is here to stay. And there’s nothing much I can do about it.

It burns me up the way people treat Fudge. He’s not so special. He’s just little, that’s all! But some day he’s going to be nine years old too. I can’t wait until he is. Then he’ll know there’s nothing so great about him at all. I wish Fudge had never been born. Everything good always happens to him! IF he had to be born I wish he could be nine or ten – like me. Living with him makes me feel like a fourth grade nothing.

♣ ♣ ♣

Aunt Linda is my mother’s sister. She lives in Boston. Last week she had a baby girl. So now I have a new cousin. My mother decided to fly to Boston to see Aunt Linda and the new baby.

“I’ll only be gone for the weekend,” my mother told me. “Daddy will take care of you and Fudge.”

On Saturday evening my father said he was going to cook us something special for dinner. I thought that was really strange. Because as far as I know my father can’t cook anything. He doesn’t even know where my mother keeps the peanut butter, the dishes, or the pots and pans. Lucky for him I was there to show him. “What are you going to cook, Dad?”

“A super-duper omelet,” he said.

I set up the table while my father cooked. When the omelet was done my father brought it to us. He served it. I took a bite. It was awful! The worst thing I ever ate in my life. But my father was standing there grinning at me. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “Well?” he said. “It’s nice,” I told him, swallowing a chunk whole. My father put some on Fudge’s plate. Then he served himself. Fudge shoved a lot into his mouth at once. I waited, figuring he’d choke on it. Instead he said, “Oh… good!”

My father beamed. Fudge wasn’t smart enough to fool my father. So he must have really liked it. But a kid that can eat flowers and swallow teeth doesn’t know much about omelets anyway.

Then my father sat down and tasted his super-duper dish. He not only choked on it. He spit it out, jumped up from the table and threw the omelet into the garbage. Fudge started to cry. “Want MORE!” “No,” my father told him. “It wasn’t any good.” Fudge screamed and flung his spoon across the room. It hit my mother’s favorite plant. The dirt spilled all over the kitchen table. “Now you stop that!” my father yelled at Fudge. “I’m going to make us nice peanut butter sandwiches. Then you’re going to have a bath! Your mommy’s coming home tomorrow and we’re going to show her how well Daddy managed all by himself! Peter… where does your mother hide the peanut butter?”

After supper my father bathed Fudge. The only thing he decided not to do was the dishes. He stacked them in the sink and left them for my mother.

On Sunday afternoon we drove out to the airport to meet my mother’s plane. On the way there my father said wouldn’t it be fun if we kept all the things we did over the weekend a secret – just between the three of us – kind of a man’s secret. I agreed not to say a word. And my mother was so glad to see us she didn’t even mention the dirty dishes in the sink.