She hasn't called me Mimi yet, but she's close. I can tell. I say, MiMiMiMi - I sing-song it, actually, and she furrows her little forehead and studies my pursed lips with Alexander Fleming-like concentration (Hmm. What's that in my petri dish?) And I know, I am positive, that she is silently practicing the words she soon will speak aloud: Mimi. My Mimi.