The monorail is made up of cars that have two bench seats, each with eight places, facing each other. At one point along the trip, we were the only ones in the car and we were joined by a young woman with two small children (a boy and a girl). It soon became apparent that she was their Nanny, and that they had worked her last nerve today.
We never caught the girl’s name, but the little boy was Charlie. He was quite put out because he wasn’t able to go to a movie because it was too late (pushing 9 at that point) and they’d obviously been shopping. I also think that Charlie was upset because whatever it was that had been purchased for him had been lost somewhere – when she finally allowed him to talk (she was very SHHH! Not one word from you! At first) he went through a long, detailed explanation about how there were two packages and now there was only one and he didn’t see her pick up the second one. Like many parent’s, she’d obviously tuned him out long ago.
What was delightful, though, was his accent – this little boy speaking very precisely with an Australian (?) accent. He’d chop off the word “shop” and then draw out “Charlie” (hence, we came to know his name).
“We could have gone to the movie, but no. You kept saying, Just into this one more SHOP Charrrrrllieee. We’ll just pop into this SHOP, Charrrrllliiee. Now there’s no time for a movie.”
Some things are universal.
