Hubby spent the day painting our halls and so we decided to have take out for dinner.

“We’re having Mexican tonight.” I told Zeeb

“Yes! I love fried rice.”

“No, not Chinese or Vietnamese. Not fried rice. Mexican.”

“Oh.”

A few minutes later when I have mentally moved on to other things, Zeeb walks back into the kitchen and says, “I love Chinese.”

“The food, the language or the people?”

“Yes.”

“Okay…?”

“Hola!!”