I asked YaYa to check on the progress of a frozen pizza we had in the oven. After much hemming and hawing and one idle threat she got up and went into the kitchen.
"It's done," she called.
Lisa and I were in the living room. "Go check it," I said, a little irritated at YaYa's delay. "She probably never even opened the stove."
A moment later Lisa reported that the pizza was, in fact, perfect and good to go.
"You know what you should do?" Lisa told YaYa tongue-in-cheek, and well within my earshot. "You should march in there and tell your Daddy off for not believing in you."
YaYa hesitated. "Go," Lisa said, laughing. "Tell him off."
YaYa walked into the living room and opened her mouth to speak.
"Daddy," she said. She paused, looking very confused. "Off."