Skip navigation

One afternoon after doing something or other in the yard I put the baby down and parked myself in front of the computer.  After a few minutes she tiptoed up to me and poked me in the side.

“Mama!  Mayno!”

“Right, honey,” I said.  I wasn’t really paying attention.

“Mayno mama,” she repeated, pointing towards the kitchen.



“Uh, OK.”  What the hell was a mayno?

I picked her up and took her into the kitchen.

“What is it honey?  What do you want?”


“Uh…you want some chips?  A banana?”

“No nana.  Share mayno.”

I had no idea what she wanted.  I shouted up the stairs to my son.

“What’s a mayno?”

“I don’t know,” he yelled back.  “Give her some juice!”

Right.  She always wanted juice.  You can’t go wrong with juice.  I looked for a bup, which was a task in and of itself.  She has about 15 bups, but there never happens to be one handy.

“Where’s her bup?”  I shouted.

“I don’t know where her bup is!  Look under the couch.”

I finally found one and filled it with juice.

“Here you go.  Bup!”

She started to cry.

“Mayno!  Share mayno!”

“What’s a mayno?  I don’t know what you want.  Is mayno on Backyardigans?”

I fumbled around with the remote and tried to comfort her at the same time.  She was starting to lose patience with me.

“What channel is Babies On Demand?”

“One thousand three!”

I typed in one-oh-oh-three and found Backyardigans, which is her favorite show at the moment.  Maybe mayno was one of the characters.

“Ta-da!”  I said.  “Mayno!”

“Share mayno!” she said, pointing to the kitchen.  I forgot.  The mayno was in the kitchen.

I suddenly remembered that there was a little green turtle that my son won at an amusement park a few weeks earlier.  I also remembered that he gave it a strange name.  That little green turtle happened to be sitting on my dishwasher.  Could that be mayno?  It had to be.

“OK honey,” I said.  I put her down and went to get the turtle.

“Here it is!  Yay mayno!”

That just about sent her over the edge.  Her face turned red, she stomped her feet and started screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Maaaaayyyyynoooooo!” she screamed.

“But I don’t know what that is,” I cried.  At this point I was crying too.

That’s how Mr. Rizzuto found us.  She was backed up against the stove and I was sitting on the kitchen floor.  We were both sobbing.

“Mayno!” she said.

“I don’t know what she wants,” I said.

He looked at the two of us, reached for a tomato that I had just picked out of the garden, rinsed it off and handed it to her.

“Here you go, sweetie,” he said.

“Thank you mama!” she said, and skipped away.

“She really likes those things,” he said.  “They’re good for her too.”  Then he went away.

For a minute I considered telling them that I was going to use that tomato for bruschetta, but I decided against it.  Instead I just sat there.

“She wanted a tomato,” I said.  “I knew that.”



  1. Oh wow! I remember how frustrating that age was. It seems everyone but you understands your kids.

    She’s the first child I’ve ever heard of, who wanted anything to do with a “mayno”, and she wanted to share?!

  2. I knew that, too! Next time call me and tell me what she’s saying and I’ll translate. And if I’m not home, just tell her, “I’m sorry baby. Mommy doesn’t know what you want. Can you show me?” Then follow her.

  3. I’ve tried that Corina. The thing is, she was pointing in that general direction but there was other stuff there too. Plus, I’m kinda stupid.

    Shawn, to my daughter “share” means “gimme”. And yes, she does eat tomatoes and a lot of other vegetables, which is a blessing because her brother eats, um, nothing.

  4. In case you wonder later why my “mayno” comment ended up below your “7 weird things” post, one weird thing about me is that I’m the most computer- and/or website-illiterate of all my friends…

  5. Uh…OK.

  6. Hahahhaa! This is wonderful, Wanda, and I truly feel your pain. Well, at least a handful of years ago I did. Makes me sad that I have two grown children and one that’s half grown. The only “maynos” in my house are just reminiscent ones. Great story! ~kate

  7. Kate! Thanks for stopping by.

    (Do you know my secret identity?)

  8. She has about 15 bups, but there never happens to be one handy.

    That sounds like my kitchen. We have 20 pairs of chopsticks and half-a-dozen forks. I don’t know where they hide, or their aversion to being used.

  9. Too funny. I don’t have my own mini-me, but I’ve babysat a few times. If YOU as a parent are clueless, imagine me. It’s not pretty.

  10. If he doesn’t recognize the jewel that you are then he doesn’t deserve you!

  11. I would have handed her a jar of Hellman’s.

  12. Heathenly, you so crazy!

    Hey Midwest, great to see you. But does that comment go on another post? It’s OK, Tigereye is a little confused too.

  13. Yeah – I was going down the mayonnaise road as well….too funny.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: