Joseph's grandmother is visiting us. His Oma. Joseph likes to use his own words though. For the longest time, Oma has been Mmmmma. Not mama. Mmmmma. We have tried correcting it but to no effect. He did change his mind on how to call her during this visit though, and moved from mmmmma to Ama. No matter how much we try to repeat oma, he keeps stubornly saying Ama.
Ama and Joseph are great friends. And it doesn't even have something to do with the twenty something books, several items of clothing and play kitchen supplies she brought for him. Maybe the daily phonecalls are starting to sink in, because Ama was immediately his favorite. Mommy was chopped liver compared to her, really. I went to the South Carolina Convention of Catholic Women, early in the morning on saturday and did not come back till after his bed time. That meant he did not see me from friday evening till sunday morning. And do you think I was the first one for whom he called in the morning? No, Sirreeh! Dada! Ama!
Hmpfh! Motherhood, it's not for the faint of heart!