The Munch spent the night with my mom aka "Gamma" on Sunday night. Yesterday, as I was tucking her into bed, she says, "Mom, I love spending the night at Gamma's house. I love Aunt Nan's room [mom's guest room, where my sister stays when she visits]--it's so cozy. But it's so cold!"
"Did you sleep under the heavy blanket?" I asked.
"Yes," Munch said, "but it was still cold, so I told Gamma to get the Afghanistan."
I just looked at her. I knew exactly what she was talking about (the afghan), but I like to not laugh because, seriously, if she calls it an 'Afghanistan' for the rest of her life, i'll die a happy woman.
I looked at The Munch in a serious fashion. "Hmmm..." (holding back my laughter), "...did she get it?"
"No. She just looked at me and said, 'What are you talking about?' So I looked at her and said, 'THE. AF-GHAN-I-STAN.' She just looked at me. How does Gamma not know what an 'Afghanistan' is?!! Jeesh."
I just looked at The Munch. She was so serious. So resolute in her...Afghanistan-ness. Then, her lips pursed, her brow crinkled, and she asked, "Wait a minute...am I saying it wrong?"