We are in a strict cost-cutting mode here at Chez Ni Hao.  Big time budgeting.  Eating out is restricted to a once-a-week affair.  I tend to opt for Thursday nights – Fridays are too hectic and crowded at restaurants, and I’m usually lacking energy for cooking by the time Thursday rolls around anyway.  Also, left-overs on Friday night can be perked up with a later night treat of, say, popcorn, which is something we don’t have time to do on a school night.

So tonight was our night out, and our waitress introduced herself as having the same name as me.  To which, ZZ got all jittery and giggly, saying things like, “Ooooh, that’s your name!  Tell her!  TELL HER!!!”  Finally she walked away, and I asked ZZ to say my name because he has this cute little way of saying it that turns the three sylables into four.

He thought I asked him to spell my name, and so he looked at me like I had lost my mind and said, “M-O-M!”

He doesn’t know how to spell a ton of words yet, but by George he knows that one, and has an attitude about it to boot.  It’s the attitude that I love the most.