I Oslo sentrum stod Ingrid foran et hav av mennesker.

In the center of Oslo, Ingrid stood in front of a sea of people.

Hun var nervøs.

She was nervous.

Det var hennes første spesialopptreden på åpningen av et nytt museet.

It was her first special appearance at the opening of a new museum.

Og hun skulle holde en tale.

And she was supposed to give a speech.

Ved siden av henne stod Lars.

Beside her stood Lars.

Han var lederen for museet.

He was the leader of the museum.

Han smilte mot henne.

He smiled at her.

Et rolig, vennlig smil.

A calm, friendly smile.

"Du vil klare det, Ingrid," sa han.

"You can do it, Ingrid," he said.

"Bare pust.

"Just breathe."

"Ingrid nikket.

Ingrid nodded.

Hun så ut over folkemengden.

She looked out over the crowd.

Alle ventet på henne.

Everyone was waiting for her.

Hun begynte å snakke.

She began to speak.

Det var bare ett problem.

There was just one problem.

Ingrid var svensk.

Ingrid was Swedish.

Hun kunne norsk, men ofte blandet hun opp språkene.

She could speak Norwegian, but often mixed up the languages.

Og under press kunne det bli verre.

And under pressure, it could get worse.

I dag var ikke unntaket.

Today was no exception.

"Hallå, alla," Emilie begynte.

"Hello, everyone," Emilie began.

Og folkemengden brøt ut i latter.

And the crowd burst into laughter.

Hun hadde glemt at hun var i Norge.

She had forgotten she was in Norway.

Hun rømte og sa "god dag" på svensk.

She quickly apologized and said "good day" in Swedish.

Lars skvatt bak henne.

Lars jumped behind her.

Men han lo også.

But he laughed too.

Det var en lettelse.

It was a relief.

Folk likte det.

People liked it.

Det var noe ekte og morsomt med det.

There was something genuine and funny about it.

Ingrid fortsatte talen.

Ingrid continued her speech.

Hun blande opp ordene, men hun rettet seg raskt.

She mixed up the words, but quickly corrected herself.

Folk lo og klappet.

People laughed and clapped.

Talen var over.

The speech was over.

Folk sto og klappet.

People stood and applauded.

Lars smilte mot henne.

Lars smiled at her.

"Bra jobbet, Ingrid," sa han.

"Well done, Ingrid," he said.

Ingrid smilte.

Ingrid smiled.

Hun hadde gjort det.

She had done it.

Hun hadde holdt talen.

She had given the speech.

Og folk likte det.

And people liked it.

Hun ble glad.

She felt happy.

Hun var glad for at hun hadde klart det.

She was happy she had succeeded.

Og hun var glad for at hun hadde fått folk til å le.

And she was happy she had made people laugh.

Det var en god følelse.

It was a good feeling.

Ingrid gikk ned fra scenen.

Ingrid stepped down from the stage.

Folk kom bort til henne.

People approached her.

De gratulerte henne.

They congratulated her.

De lo og smilte.

They laughed and smiled.

Ingrid smilte tilbake.

Ingrid smiled back.

Og så forstod hun.

And then she understood.

Det var ikke så farlig med språkforvirringen.

Language confusion wasn't so important.

Det viktigste var at hun hadde klart det.

The most important thing was that she had done it.

Og at folk hadde likt det.

And that people had enjoyed it.

Og så lovet hun seg selv at hun skulle lære seg bedre norsk.

And she promised herself she would learn Norwegian better.

Men hun visste også at hun ville fortsette å blande språkene.

But she also knew she would continue to mix the languages.

Og det gjorde ingen ting.

And that was okay.

For hun visste at det kunne være morsomt.

Because she knew it could be fun.

Og det gjorde folk glade.

And it made people happy.

Dermed endte dagen med et stort smil om Ingrids lepper og en varm følelse i hjertet hennes, ikke bare hadde hun kommet gjennom talen, men hun hadde også klart å charmere hele folkemengden i museet med sin språkblanding.

Thus, the day ended with a big smile on Ingrid's lips and a warm feeling in her heart, not only had she gotten through the speech, but she had also managed to charm the entire crowd at the museum with her language mix-up.