At breakfast Ting Ting was telling me a story -- best she could -- when she mentioned a friend's mother.
"I like T___'s mama," I said. "Do you?"
"Yeah," she said.
"T___'s mama is nice," I said.
"Yeah," she said, looking a bit worriedly at my face. Then she held out her arms and spoke with all the passion she could muster.
"Ting Ting's mama, too!" she said.