Kentucky?

"Kentucky?  You thought we were from Kentucky?  I don't know if you could have said anything worse to me.  Maybe I should call my stylist, or just throw myself off the Brooklyn Bridge!"

This was my response to a woman who asked where we were from in the bathroom of the Capital Grill on Wall Street.

KZ had had an active day.  We had lunch with Daddy after visiting his office, took a boat ride on the Staten Island Ferry, then had a fun play date with her best friend Chloe.  We were going to head back home, but Daddy suggested having dinner at the Capital Grill.  We really like the Capital Grill.  It has good food, excellent service, and is very kid friendly ... at least the Capital Grill on Wall Street.  KZ was really wired from her long day.  It was passed her bedtime, and that second wind that only four-year old's can get, had taken over.

At the end of dinner, she needed to go to the bathroom.  Jeremy took her, but they came back right away.

"Daddy wanted to take me into the boys room.  I'm a girl.  I can't go in there,"  she said.  "Come on Mommy, let's go.  I have to poop."

Well, how can I argue with that.

Jeremy just looked at me.

"I tried, I really did," he said.

Once KZ was finished in the very posh bathroom, she started talking to a woman who just walked in.

"Hi, I'm KZ!  What's your name?"

She as this thirty-something Asian-American, black wardrobe clad, uber thin woman ... in high heels.

"My name is Grace," she nicely replied.

"Where are you from?" KZ continued.

I was happy that she was holding a conversation and following the flow of dialog.

"I'm from New York.  And where are you from?"

"I live at 446 East 86th Street," KZ proudly replied.

"Oh, I thought you were going to say Kentucky, or some place like that," Grace nicely replied.

And that is where I lost it.

True, neither KZ nor I are were wearing black, or under weight, or had on heels.  But KENTUCKY?  I mean I could have handled Brooklyn.

Not sure what this means ... except that Grace doesn't have any children.