...is a failure to communicate.
Ann's sick, so the kids and I went out to eat. We tried a new place on Middle Ring Road. I ordered water for everyone and a chicken dish for myself. Jacen ordered a shrimp dish (or so he assured me). Emmy wanted sate, so I asked the waitress if they had any and then ordered it when she said yes. Then I ordered two side orders of rice--it still weirds me out when I find a restaurant where rice doesn't come with the meal--one for me and one for Jacen.
Well, we got the water. I got my chicken dish and rice. Then they brought out a plate with steak and veggies. We discussed this for while, but couldn't figure out why we got it; it wasn't sate (little strips of meat grilled on a stick) and it certainly wasn't shrimp. Finally I asked our waitress what it was, and she assured me it was steak. Ah. Sate. Steak. They both start with "s" I suppose. But I swear I was speaking in Thai when I ordered the sate. The sauce on the steak was too spicy for Emmy, so she let Jacen eat it, which was just as well, cause his shrimp and rice never came. Of course, that meant Em never got any dinner. She settled for a bowl of noodles at home.
Sigh. All those months of Thai lessons...