Nice ta meetcha

The other day Anne and I were talking while we were swimming. She said, "my name's George, what's your name?" (We do this almost every day where she comes up with a name for herself and wants to know what my temporary name is.) I said, "actually, I have a story to tell you" and I went on to tell her about how when I was a little girl her size everyone used to call me Libby. Well, one day I decided that I didn't want to be called Libby any more so whenever anyone called me that, I was quick to correct them with, "my name is LYDIA, not Libby." I told her it used to make me really grumpy that people didn't call me by my name and they always just wanted to call me Libby. She acted very sympathetic as I was telling her the story. I told her that finally, after having to tell people over and over again, they started calling me by my real name and I was very glad. She turned away and splashed for a minute then she turned back to me and with that ornery look in her eyes said, "nice ta meetcha... Wibby!"