The other night we were seated around the table enjoying a spetacular shrimp pasta. We had also made a white cheddar pasta for the kids in case they didn’t like the shrimp (didn’t want to waste it if they didn’t like it – more for us!).
Elizabeth quickly cleaned her plate and held it up. “Can I have some more nudes please?”
I did a double take and spluttered a bit. “Some what dear?”
So I had heard her right. I started laughing, the kind that starts as a little chuckle and builds and builds. “Honey do you know what nude means?”
“No.” She was beginning to look a bit bewildered at her insanely laughing mom and glanced toward Dad who was chuckling into his cup.
“It means naked,” I explained through my laughter.
“Oh.” She gave us a sheepish grin and began laughing. “Oops. I’d like some more noodles, please.”
“That we can do, but we don’t serve naked people here,” I happily commented, to which Dad almost lost his water all over the table and Liz and I cascaded into helpless laughter as the rest of the family looked on trying to figure out what was so very funny.