"SAIA!" he yells as we slip through the toll booth this morning (gotta love that carpool lane, baby!).
"Yes, Santiago, what is it?" she asks, already beginning to look a little ashen as she prepares to pull the ol' think-I'm-gonna-throw-up routine since she's realized that even the slightest gagging or heaving will get her out of school and into Mama's office for the day.
"Saia, somebody has your truck!" he explains.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Santiago," she mumbles.
"Your truck, Saia. See? Over there. The one with your name on it."
And passing us in the slow lane is, for those of you that don't know, a truck from the Saia, Inc. trucking company from whence Mama stole her name.
And yes, I do realize that it's not gonna go over real well when she's 13.