Out of the mouths of babes

I went to a jazz concert this evening with my flatmate, Anna, who is a stealth Hungarian (most people guess she is Canadian or American, since she lived in the States for many years, but she is actually Hungarian).  Some of her second cousins were there as well, two boys of ten and twelve years old, and I wound up chatting with them at the end of the evening.  One of them asked me a question, and the following exchange took place (in Hungarian, naturally):

Me: I'm not sure.  I don't understand everything.
Boy: You don't understand everything in Hungarian?!
Me: Well, I'm not Hungarian.
Boy: But how can you LIVE when you don't understand everything?!?!

Seriously, he was just so shocked and appalled at the whole concept.  I tried to explain that you just kind of get used to it, but the concept was just too foreign to him.  I guess I could have told him that I actually live quite easily.  That being able to tune out side conversations and bus noise makes my life happier.  That sometimes the food, or whatever else, I order winds up being not exactly what I expected, but that I've learned not to be picky, and was never really that picky anyway, and have thus discovered new things to love.  That people generally approach any conversation they have with me with an attitude of "Oh, she's so cute," which tends to lead to my own benefit.  That sometimes I can get out of trouble by saying, "I'm so sorry.  I didn't understand."  That I have to be more careful with my words.  That it makes me really listen to the people that talk to me: stop what I'm doing, look them in the face, and listen.  That I learn new things each and every day, and never cease to be fascinated and infatuated with this weird, gorgeous little language.

Instead I just laughed and said, "Ahh, it's not so bad!"  And he boggled at me.  Kids!