An insurance agent called my house last night. It was 7:15 p.m. and I'd been in the process of settling my kids into bed for the night. Encouraging Eliza to remain in her room with Henry, I rushed downstairs to locate the phone.
I was too busy "rushing" for the phone to care that my sweet little shadow had disregarded my request. As my out of shape self breathed a quick,
"Hello?" I turned to find an impatient three year old, bobbing up and down; her outstretched hand eagerly reached for the phone. As I politely informed the caller that he was calling at a less than ideal moment (aren't insurance agents supposed to make these type of calls during the day?!), I did my best to brush off Eliza's incessant pleading.
"Mom, can I say 'Hi', pleeeeeeease?" And before she could ask for the 5th time, I had ended my conversation.
"But Mom!" she sighed, "I really want to talk to Nana again!"
"That wasn't Nana." She was shocked by this revelation considering I talk to my Mom 3-4 times a day (not an exaggeration).
"It wasn't Nana?" She repeated, still bewildered. As we made our way back upstairs, she asked,
"Who was it, Mom?"
"His name was Don." That was true.
"Oh." (pause) "Is he like a Don-o-saur?"
Her question was a gift. I laughed so hard; which confused her entirely.