While on our summer vacation to South Dakota two summers ago, Wayne was telling some story to me (me, mind you, not to all occupants of the car), about someone at work who asked someone to hand him his sandwich. Marissa, who always seems to be on the cusp of listening to our conversation, misheard the word "sandwich" and asked, "Who's hand got cut off?"
Throughout the rest of the trip, whenever she would ask "What?" we would reply, "Whose hand got cut off?"
Last week the four of us were in the car, driving back from the girls' soccer game. They are both taking a summer recreational soccer league, and were placed on the same team, which makes it convenient as can be for us to go see them both play.
We were talking about a teammate of theirs who plays goalie. She is a great goalie, and a few times during the game took a ball to the head or chest, shrugged it off and kept playing.
"She sure is resilient," I said.
"No Mom, she was born in Russia," Marissa said.
It took us a while to figure out that she thought I said, "She sure is Brazilian."
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