Nothing’s favorite first cousin is Nobody. Nobody makes an appearance when things turn sour. “Short,” I query my younger son, “who colored on the couch with marker?!” He looks at his feet and mumbles, “Nobody.”
You’ve probably talked to Nevermind before. I’ve haven’t met her in person, but she calls a lot. She likes to dial wrong numbers and ask for people like “Raji” or “Sven” and then when you say, “Who? I think you have the wrong number,” she laughs and says, “Nevermind.”
Nowhere is popular, too. When I want to get away for the weekend and fly to say, Miami, I mention this to The Husband, thinking he’ll be supportive. Instead, he responds, “MOV, we can't afford it, and honestly there’s Nowhere I’d rather be than right here.” I, myself, am kind of sick of Nowhere.
Our household has gone bilingual. We embrace Nada into our lives. My older son types away furiously at the computer, looking up new Lego sets and man-eating sharks. When I ask, “Tall, whatcha up to?” he clicks the mouse and replies, “Oh, Nada.”
As you can imagine, things are getting pretty crowded around here with Nothing, Nobody, Nevermind, Nowhere, and Nada. Seems like a party. I call out, “Hey, if you all want to stay, did someone at least bring some Nachos?”
You know the answer: Nope.
MOV
