Arrrrrrr You Ready For Talk Like a Pirate Day?

So, again we find ourselves together. If you are reading this while sipping coffee, we are sharing a cuppa together, because I wrote this while enjoying my own java.

My Gramma used to send me tea bags in the mail when I was in college. Her notes read, “Now we can share a cup of tea together.” I could call her and we would sip our tea together over the phone. I kind of wish we had Facetime then. Still a sweet memory.

I digress. The title of this post is “Arrrrrrr You Ready For Talk Like a Pirate Day?” We are paragraphs in and no pirate talk. I apologize.

A few weeks back (yes, I am super-tardy on this) was the annual “Talk Like a Pirate Day.” September 19 to be exact. I know, because it’s the same day every year-its that organized. You may have heard about it from David Letterman or seen it on Facebook. An aside about Facebook-you can actually change your default language to Pirate English. For Real! “Avast me hearties, eighteen landlubbers be admirin’ that post”, and “2 scallywags be havin’ a birthday’, etc. Genius!

I’ve loved this day for about 11 years now, since a former co-worker opened our eyes to the day's greatness.

This year, in the spirit of having fun/embarrassing my kids whenever possible, I decided to go whole hog. I bought some cheap pirate hats and eye patches, plastic pieces of eight and decided to start the day with gusto.

As the kids stumbled downstairs, one at a time (we aren’t reeeeally morning people) they were greeted with blaring theme music from Pirates of the Caribbean-“Yo ho, yo ho, a Pirate’s Life for Me!” and a sign that read:

“Avast, me hearties!

It be Talk Like a Pirate Day!

Eat up yer cannon balls, briny banana muffins and drink yer arrrrr-ange juice or you’ll be walkin’ the plank!”

I mean, how can you not have Arrrrr-ange juice?

I was a little lame on the other food. Grapes=cannon balls and banana muffins=barnacles? Bilge? Nothing really sounded too appetizing. I settled on Briny Banana muffins out of give-upedness.

One of the kids got into the spirit and began pirate talk and behavior immediately. 

And one child acted like I had donned a clown wig and tutu and danced in a public water fountain.

And not the kid you would think!

It was the middle kid-the one who is NINE!

“I am NOT putting that hat on! It will completely mess up my hair!”

Oh, no she didn’t!

“Pirates? Really Mommy?”

Okay, point of order. If a child still calls you Mommy, shouldn’t they still get into the spirit of things like “Talk Like a Pirate Day” (TLAPD henceforth)?

“Aye, Pirates. Fer real.”

“Ughhhhh!”

“Ye should be havin’ fun, ye landlubber or ye’ll be keelhauled and swab the decks!”

Insert teen-worthy eye roll here.

“It be only happenin’ once a year.”

“I wish it happened NONCE a year!”

To which the youngest chimed in:

“You’re boring. You should walk the plank!”

Nine year-old tongue firmly stuck out at sister.

I handed them their snacks for the day, goldfish packets with “pirate catch of the day” written on the sides. They just shoved them in without reading them. Oh, well.

So, fast-forward eight minutes to when we had to leave for school.

 “You aren’t wearing that hat to drop us off are you?” middle child said with horror.

Ummmm, I totally am now.

Another aside here, I am not about child-shaming. Dog-shaming? Knock yourself out because that is hilarious. But I won’t dress down my kids in front of their peers, ridicule them or publicly discipline them to excess. I don’t agree that that helps anyone. What I will do is go old-school geek-parent on them. I will channel the curlers and bathrobe of old, hanging out the car yelling, “Make good choices, sweetie!” when a kid gets too big for her britches. And no-one. NO-ONE will suck the joy out of TLAPD!

And thus we went to school, the middle child making record time exiting the vehicle. The youngest child sporting her hat and eye-patch. Awwww!

The eldest child came down to eat, put on the hat and I even saw the flicker of a smile. It was like that cruise commercial where they secretly film the teenage daughter and capture the elusive smile for posterity. She even said, wait for it, “This is actually kind of cool.”

Fanfare please.

No, really, I would love to hear trumpets because this is a huge deal!

She had an eye exam/dilation later in the morning and even threw on an eye patch over her little sunshade doohickey.

I spent the day reveling in Piratey glee. Exchanging pirate-isms with my fun friends and plotting my school pick-up revenge.

I waited patiently in the parking lot, resplendent in my pirate hat and eye patch. iPhone in hand-again queued up to pirate music. I stood outside the car. I have no shame (please note that I have, on several occasions, dressed like a cow to get free food at Chic-fil-a and Chipotle. Uh-huh.)

I saw the middle child come around a bend and pushed play on my phone.

“Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me…”

“Ahoy! It be the scurvy landlubbers back from school!”

Oh. My. Goodness. If a pit of fire could have opened up under me and consumed me and my wretched phone of doom, she would have danced with glee. She looked very much like she wanted me banished forever. Success! Sometimes you just gotta’ bring the crazy.

The youngest child re-donned her pirate garb and sang along. Aye, it be heartwarmin’ to hear!

As the middle child got in, grabbing for my hat, she said “Did you have to write that stuff on my goldfish?”

Lame.

Later, we swung by to grab fast-food. My pirate-food creativity stalled out after breakfast and the hubby was out of town. Where did we go? Obviously-Arrrrrrr-by’s!

As I pulled up to the window, I said “Arrrr-by’s! How many people talked like a pirate to you today?”

The previously-bored teenage boy stared at me and said, “None. Until now. But that’s funny.”

Sigh.

Well, he’ll know next year.

Signing off for now. Captain’s log complete. Read up me hearties, yo ho!

Every pirate needs a trusty companion!