"Saia, tell Mama a story for the blog," I begged at breakfast this morning. She thought for a while and then actually put down her fork for this, it was so important. "Saia," she began [because they still tend to speak of themselves in the third person, which we're desperately hoping they outgrow at least before they start dating], "slide down pool, and...and...and" "Yes, baby," I coached. "And Saia slide down pool." "Yes, sweetheart, you slid down into the pool, and then?" "And then...then...then [her fork is flailing about now]." "Take a breath, Saia." "Then...then...Saia fall on Chago! [cackle, cackle, cackle]" "But Saia," I interrupted. [still cackling -- practically in tears now] "Saia," I called again. [now Chago's joined in] "Saia fall on Chago!!!" he shrieks. [both now laughing uncontrollably] "SAIA! Mama's trying to talk to you..." [hysterical laughter, heads thrown back, fists banging on table] "Saia... [she teases him] fall on...[he's waiting for the punchline now] Chago!!!" she screams. [roaring chortles now, both coughing, tears streaming]

"Oh, nevermind. I'll think of something."