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Each day of my life I am not concerned with knowing every stranger’s name who crosses my path and how old they are, but for Ezekiel this is vital information.  When he talks on the phone, he will ask the caller, “What’s your name?”  If someone asks how old he is he will reply, “I’m 3.  What number are you?”  I am required to give him the name of everyone I talk to, be it telemarketers, store clerks, or old ladies standing next to me.  He is relentless.  “What’s her name?  What’s her name?  What’s her name?  What’s her name?  What’s her name?”  He won’t stop until I tell him and then he commits it to memory.  If, I hang up the phone on a telemarketer without listening carefully for their name, I’m doomed.  “What’s his name?  What’s his name?  What’s his name?  What’s his name?  What’s his name?”  “I don’t know” is not an acceptable answer.  In Australia, a telemarketer from India called me and told me his name was Bruce.  His pronunciation of Bruce made me sincerely doubt that Bruce was his real name.  If he called me now that I am back in America, would his name be Bob?  Anyway, along with having to know everyone’s name, Ezekiel will periodically make rude comments about the person.  He doesn’t use the term man or woman yet.  So, instead, he says, “I don’t like that girl.”  “I don’t like that boy.” in reference to various people that don’t appeal to him.  In the midst of trying to correct him on this rude habit, he looked over at the lady next to me and said, “That girl’s got a big nose!”  I told him to apologize for being rude.  He said “I’m sorry” followed closely behind by “That girl’s got a big nose!”  I figured it was best to just move along.  If he doesn’t have a name for something, he makes one up.  This afternoon when I was driving in the car, I heard him in the back having a conversation with his fingers.  He would hold up a finger and say, “My name is Lala, I like to dance.”  (This is chanted repeatedly on the inane show Yo Gabba Gabba.  The kids or characters insert their name into the phrase)  He continued through all ten fingers and they had names like Umi and Umu and Aza and Holly Hobby.  When that was done, he told his fingers that all his friends were in Iraq and he asked them one by one if they wanted to go to Iraq too.  They all agreed to go to Iraq and then he counted everyone of his fingers who were going to Iraq and they all cheered.  I will admit that it was probably a mistake to buy him a camouflaged jacket.  Then, the only bathrobe (dressing gown) that I could find close to his size was camouflaged too.  The first time he put his bathrobe on, Abby said we should buy him a pipe.  He does look hilarious in the thing.  In fact, he came downstairs wearing his bathrobe tonight to tell me that he needed “warm and toasty”.  When I tuck him into bed, I say, “There, now your warm and toasty.”  So, while most kids ask to be tucked in, he needs “warm and toasty.”  If you come in contact with the boy, be prepared to give your name and age.  I can’t promise he won’t insult you, but if your lucky he may invite you to go to Iraq with him to see all his friends.