Lost in Translation, Part II

My parents and grandma came over last night to hang out for a bit. I made this.

We ate it.

My Mom sent me a text today. "Thanks for a fun evening, and for the tummy cake."

That was not a typo. I mean, not my typo. She really did text "tummy cake." I stopped laughing for a bit to read Michael the text.

"Ha! Ha, ha! Thanks for the 'tummy ache?!'"

"No, tum-my- CAKE. As in, instead of 'yummy cake." (though tummy ache would have been funny too, and likely accurate).

Michael ha-ha'd harder.

"Mmmmm, yummy cake. Yummy cake, tummy ache, tummy cake."

What made the moment funnier was that my Mom, all techied-up with her Droid, has a history of text follies. Last week, in attempt to sign off in "hugs and kisses;" she had typed "coco" instead of "xoxo." Coco Mom.

We can all relate, can't we? You've read enough of my late-night entries to expect a typo or two, or three. My good friend Kia texted me last week about a verbal type-o. She was in conversation with her husband, discussing sizes, and referred to a medium. Only she didn't say "medium." She said "Wednesday." A size Wednesday helmet.

Maybe we all had tummy aches from the tummy cake because I cut the slices quite Friday.