T has decided Pepper, our dog, is his cow, and is trying to herd her into a “cage” that he made. (He tried, and failed, to lasso her earlier. She thought it was much fun.) He’s walking back and forth to the “cage”, trying to get Pepper to follow, saying “Pepper! In, in, IN PEPPER! Pepper, come in! Cow, cow, cow! Follow me in, Cow!” N, who is almost 8, tells him that we don’t put cows in cages; they belong in barns. T says that we do put PET cows in cages. Hard to argue with, he is.
(FTR, yes, they do know that meat comes from animals. T tells us, whenever we have chicken, that the chickens died so we could eat them. Sometimes he says they died happily, which we’re not so sure about. We don’t make a big deal about the animal/meat connection, though, because N is the sort who would turn veg if he thought too much about it and I just don’t want to go there yet. Because it is, of course, all about me.)
Did I ever mention that I never thought I’d need to say things like “Please don’t break that, and don’t break your brother either!”? Oy.
