Last night, as I was driving home from my cousin Mickey's birthday party, I was playing some in-the-car games with Calhoun, the eight-year-old son of my friend and neighbor Kevin. We were in the middle of, "I love my love with an A," and Calhoun was doing really well. Kevin was playing, too, I add, in case anyone wants to know all the details. Calhoun had gotten to, "I love with love with an N," although, let me just add for both interest and clarity, that neither Kevin nor his son Calhoun would say the words properly. Kevin would just say, "Oh, okay, let's see, uh -- Betty, bouncy and Burlingame and beans," and Calhoun would say, "Okay, I live with a guy named Ed, and he eats eggs, and he like to be exciting and we live in Eagle Creek."
Sheesh! Guys!
Anyway, as I was saying, Calhoun was on "N", and could not think of a food that started with that letter. We had made several suggestions to him, all of which he repudiated strongly, since he had not thought of them himself.
So I dropped them off and drove home. I had been home for about ten minutes when the phone rang.
"Elisabeth? It's Calhoun."
"Hi, Coony!"
"Noodles."
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