Great morning ruined by a foreign language

I had the best morning.  I laid in bed while I listened to Chris hustle all the kids out of their pajamas and into mismatched clothes.  I listened to the process of socks, sneakers, teeth, and hair.  I silently wondered if I sound that way as I hustle them every morning.  I never would have said a word, he was doing a great job, as he always does, but it was enjoyable listening to how it all went down.  The best part - other than the fact that I was still in bed - was that Chris isn't quite as fluent in LaurenSpeak as I am.  When she's not heard she gets frustrated which quickly turns into whining.  She was saying what sounded like, "The zima ma fut!  The zima ma fut!"  Chris guessed every possible possibility except the right one.  I was giggling under the covers because it was so clear as to what she was saying.  She got pissed that he couldn't understand and he got pissed that she got pissed.  Awesome.

I shouldn't have laughed because it ended up that by the time she got to the car she was in a puddle of tears and he was at the end of his rope.  I heard the crying get louder as he walked her back to the front door.  I heard the front door open and heard him say, "Here, you stay here with mommy.  It's better for everyone this way.  I'll bring you home a donut." 

So.  My quiet extra hour of sleep this morning is no more.  All  because I laid in bed and giggled instead of saying to Lauren, "Come here.  I'll help you fix the seam on your foot."  See, Chris?  The seam on her sock was bothering her.  Duh.

It's too bad the UN doesn't need a toddler speak interpreter.  I'd kill it.