Last week, Zoey accompanied me when I drove to Syracuse to make a deposit at our bank. As we got off the highway and headed into downtown, I looked at Zoey in the backseat and said, “This is the city, Monkey.”
Without missing a beat, she replied, “City monkey?”
Okay, maybe the comma was too subtle for her to understand. Got it. “This is the city,” I said with a little less excitement.
“Monkey?” Came the response from the backseat.
I gave up. It wasn’t important anyway.
“Are you my monkey?” I asked with a grin.