<strong>Roberto</strong><br/>I raised my eyebrows and smiled, impressed. Where did the girl pick up Brazilian Portuguese, of all languages? Obviously that would come in handy later. Still, there was a prinicple involved here, the one that dictates a real man fix his own sink, and only call the plumber when the kitchen is flooded. I gave her my best Japanese style bow back, and soldiered on in my pre-schooler level Japanese:<br/><br/><strong>"Takaeda-san, you shpeak beauteeful Portugues,"</strong>I complimented her, vaguely remembering a phrase that had seemed unlikely to be needed when I first read it, and gravely mispronouncing it. Praying I hadn't insulted her mother, I added:<br/><br/><strong>"You're sertenly helping me feel at home. I sink I'd better uerk on eemprowving my Japanese zough, no? Practeece makes perfect. So what's weez ze afternoon lessones? Don't we get to unpack our seengs and meet our beauteeful new classmates first over lunch?" I inquired with an impetuous grin, raising an eyebrow slightly.    </strong>