Our big party plans for Friday night consisted of meeting my mother and five-year old niece, Eliana for dinner at a local mexican restaurant. My mom is somewhat of a regular there. We had a margarita and some enchiladas and were relaxing at the table, our kiddos were sick of sitting and since it was late and there was hardly anyone there, they got up. They went over to help the Mexicans roll silverware and pretend like they were employees. Restaurant work is in their genes, in about a decade they will both be third generation waitresses or bartenders.
As they came back to the table my niece informed us that she was "Cindy" and my daughter, her friend, that was with her "Well, her name is Kelly".
Oh, I say, and what are you ladies doing out this evening?
Just had some dinner, and we are getting ready to have dessert. We live just down the street, and are going home soon, she answers.
I decide to compliment her on her lovely boots (my mother will get a kick out of this seeing as she is the one who bought her those black suede and green leather kicks). Before I can continue this conversation with these new found friends "Cindy" and "Kelly", my niece pipes up.....
I know what you name is. Your name is Beth, and your name is Emily. Referring to us by our real names.
Well, how do you know our names? I ask her, in shock.
I read your mail