"Roasted Baloni"

“I think you have some mail,” she announced happily to me one Saturday afternoon.

“Oh, yeah. I already got the mail. Thanks, Kaya,” I replied, semi-absentmindedly.

“Oh, cool. Well. There might be some more, then. Maybe. You might want to check. Just in case,” she replied brightly, with a mischievous glint in her eye.

So I checked the mailbox.

Inside was a plain sheet of printing paper, folded in half. On the outside were the words:

TO: NAOMI

FROM: ?

So, I said, “Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, I wonder who this is from.” In an exaggerated tone. I made a face, to back up the tone, one that I hoped looked like I was pondering it, dramatically.

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” she said, “it IS a mystery.” And then she grinned.

I walked back inside from the front porch, Kaya following on my heels. I closed the door.

“Well, open it!” she yelped.

“Of course, of course,” I replied, quickly.

I opened it. On the left half of the folded paper there was a drawing of a piece-of-bread person. That is to say, a piece of bread with arms, legs, and a face. Behind him stood the rest of the loaf, in the plastic bread bag. (I actually had to ask Mike what it was, for this story, and he was like, “duh, it’s a loaf of bread.” Obviously.) In a thought bubble over the bread person's head were the words “Wow, he’s roasted.”

Now, okay. You may think this must be the best part of the story, because it’s pretty great. But you would be wrong, dear readers! We are not to the best part yet, though we are getting closer to it.

On the right side of the sheet of paper stood a slice-of-bologna person, in that it was a slice of bologna with arms, feet – or at least shoes – and a face. He’s waving, at the piece-of-bread man. His conversation bubble says, “Hi!” Next to the piece-of-bologna man is a container that says “roasted baloni.”

Now I know what you must be thinking. This surely must be the best part of the story, because, wow, it is great.

But no, because it gets better. Right now:

“Turn it over,” Kaya encouraged, once I had looked at the bread and bologna people for a while.

I turned it over.

On the back of the homemade card it said, in big letters down the page that took up the entire back of the card:

HA
HA
HA
HA

And there it is. Kaya just beamed at me, then, very content with herself and this card she drew for me. (Well, we can only assume it was from her, since she never did admit it.)

This story is why I love Kaya so much.

Josh didn’t get why it was so funny, but I love him anyway. Maybe even because of it. After all, you know what they say: Variety is the spice of life!