Zen chimes

We had a bit of a rough afternoon yesterday, but by 6 pm Agatha was sleeping, and Michael, Henry and I sat down to eat dinner together.  By way of making conversation, I started mentioning to Michael all the things Henry had told me about his day on his way home from school.  "Henry made a globe today using a balloon."  "No, Mom, not a globe, it was the world; we put all the continents on it."  "Okay.  And Henry came home with a snakeskin in his backpack."  "He did?! Where did you get that, Henry?"  "From Tate's class.  And I saw geckos and lizards and snakes there!"  "Who is Tate? Is he a teacher?"  "No, he's a friend."  [Hmmm...]  "And Henry got to ring the chimes today."  "No, not the chimes, Mom, the ZEN CHIVES."  [Imagine this said forcefully, in the most un-zen-like manner, with a mouthful of pasta.]  "The ZEN CHIBES." [He's still trying to pronounce it correctly.]  "The zen chimes?"  "YES, THE ZEN CHIVES."  Ah, Montessori school!